New Tides
by Notyou21
Summary: Beauxbatons is hosting the Triwizard Tournament. Harry gets a trip to France where he realises that there is more to the school and its students than meets the eye. He can't help but notice a certain French witch who incidentally, does not crave attention. Voldemort's not too keen on sitting back in Britain, either. Smarter Harry.
1. Beauxbatons

**A/N: Hello everybody! Thanks for checking out this story, it means a lot to me. I don't think this ideas been used before, so here you go. The plot's going to build up at my own pace, it won't be too fast. Any confusion regarding this update will be cleared up in due time.**

Station Nine and three quarters was bustling as usual on its busiest day of the year. Wizards and witches rushed around the station, in hurry as usual. Mrs Weasley was smothering Ron and Harry in a flurry of hugs and kisses, deaf to their protests. The train gave another loud hoot as the pair of them jumped onto the train with Hermione close behind them.

'C'mon, lets find an empty compartment.' Said Harry as he walked along the train, heavily conscious of the whispers that followed him as he did his best to ignore it.

The trio soon found an compartment occupied by only Neville and Luna. Neville was wearing a shirt which was quite large for him and he smiled as soon as Harry entered. He shifted over so that Hermione could sit.

'Hello, Harry.' Luna greeted him serenely as he sat down alongside her with Ron. She was wearing a striking yellow attire and looking at him with spiral glasses which rather gave her the impression of an owl.

'Hi, Luna.' Harry replied cheerily.

Ron just gave a brief nod in her direction, not doing much to conceal his impression of the girl. He turned back only to find Hermione looking at him reproachfully.

'What!?' Ron exclaimed.

Hermione did not deign to reply. Instead, she turned to Luna who was busy taking off the wrapper off several chocolate bars and neatly piling them up beside.

'Luna!' Hermione said, 'How are you? And what are you doing with these…' Her voice trailed off as the wrappers came into focus.

'I'm fine.' Luna replied happily, 'I'm collecting these wrappers as a safeguard against Dingy Wombats. They can be really disconcerting if they get into your eye.'

Hermione didn't know what to say but carried on, 'And these… chocolate wrappers keep them away?'

'Yes.' Said Luna.

Ron let out a snort which he quickly converted into a very obnoxious sneeze.

'Sorry.' He said, though he sounded far from it, 'I think one of those Wingy Dombats got into my nose.'

'Dingy Wombats.' Luna corrected him absentmindedly, once again focused on the task at hand.

There was silence in the compartment till Neville nervously spoke up,

'Do you know what's going on at school this year?'

Hermione instantly responded,

'What's going on?'

'I don't know.' Neville said embarrassedly, 'I thought you or Ron might.'

Ron looked at him curiously,

'You know what? I think Bill actually hinted something exciting's going to happen this year.'

A spurt of laughter came from the door, which was followed by more and more chuckles until they finally stopped.

'Are you done, Malfoy?' Harry said coldly. Draco Malfoy, along with his two goons, was standing at the doorway, with the usual sneer on his face.

'I can't believe you don't know what's going to happen.' Malfoy said, continuing as if he hadn't heard what Harry said. 'My father told me all about it.'

'I couldn't care less about what your father said.' Shot back Ron, 'Now get out of my face.'

Draco turned to Ron. 'Gladly.' He said,' Its not like you have much of one.'

He went out of with a sneer and a bang of the door.

'Now that we're done with _that_ ,' Started Hermione and the rest of the journey passed as it usually does. The great, imperious sight of Hogwarts caught even the seventh years by awe and before they knew it, the golden trio were one again seated in the Great Hall. Green, yellow, blue and gold flags hung from the ceiling as thousands of candles floated in front of them. The teachers looked much the same seated at their table along with a usual vacancy of one particular seat. The vast hall gave off a homely feeling which was like by everyone.

'Welcome!' Intoned Dumbledore once the sorting was done and everybody was waiting for the meal, his voice reverberating through the hall. 'This promises to be another great year of education for some, and not such a great year for others. Indeed, in some ways this year will be unique in an aspect which… forgive me, I will explain in detail afterwards. I have always found that a well-fed audience is far more responsive and satisfied than a hungry one.'

With a clap of his hands the food appeared on the table and the students began to tuck in voraciously, the sound of chattering spreading throughout the Hall. The headmaster presided with a wise, slightly smiling face which quickly vanished.

He had just remembered that he had forgotten to stock up on his Sherbet Lemons for this school year.

'Reckon its something exciting?' Ron asked between two mouthfuls of food.

Harry gave an eloquent shrug.

After they were done Dumbledore clapped his hands once more as the food vanished.

'Very good, very good.' He muttered, smiling benevolently at the expectant audience.

'Straight to business then. It is my pleasure to announce that our school has been invited to participate in the Triwizard Tournament this year hosted by the most prestigious school in France - Beauxbatons'.

This announcement was received by several forms and degrees of disbelief.

'Hogwarts was supposed to host it!' Shouted out Malfoy from the Slytherin table in fury. Several students also seemed to be asking about if anybody knew anything about Beauxbatons or the Tournament.

Dumbledore seemed to catch the general gist of the confusion.

'Ah, I will clear any doubts you have if you would just allow me.'

Instantly the hall fell silent.

'First of all, the Triwizard tournament is a competition in magic between 3 students of the 3 most most prestigious schools of magic in Europe - Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Each school will have its own school champion. As Mr Malfoy so astutely pointed out, the competition was supposed to have been hosted by our school. However, since some disturbing evidences of attempts at sabotage have been found since, the Tournament organisers shifted the venue to Beauxbatons. Hogwarts will be taking along an entourage of twenty of its brightest students to France, mainly from the sixth and seventh years. Interested students may give their names to their respective Heads of Houses.'

The announcement was received by so much excitement that the students almost missed the dramatic entrance of their new Defence again Dark Arts teacher - Retired Auror Alastor Moody.

Soon the crowd dispersed to go along to back to their respective dormitories. The Gryffindor Trio slowly made their way back to the tower.

'What d'you think about entering, Harry?' Ron said excitedly.

'I don't know, Ron.' Harry answered tiredly,' I think I'll like a bit of rest this year. You know, away from the excitement.'

'But this is HUGE, mate! Think of the glory if we win this!'

'I don't want it. And we aren't even going to get selected to go to France anyways.'

Ron opened his mouth but Hermione beat him to it,

'I think Harry's right. I remember reading about this in a book. Each school has only one champion nominated by it. And I remember Dumbledore saying they were only going to take sixth and seventh years for trying.'

Ron deflated a bit,

'But still,' he said,' I'm going to give my name to McGonagall.'

Th days passed swiftly passed as Harry discovered he was doing significantly better in classes. All Ron could talk about was the tournament and Harry started to find it a bit annoying over time. He took to spending less time with him and instead devoted more time to his studies as magic continued to fascinate him and never threatened to bore him. He started to understand what Hermione, as a muggleborn, saw in it.

Expectant students submitted their names for the delegation and bets were placed on the favourites. Of them, the main focus was on a few Ravenclaws and Cedric Digorry from Hufflepuff. Angelina Johnson was the favourite from Gryffindor to be the champion.

Almost a month passed before Harry found himself in the Transfiguration classroom, struggling with a particularly complex variation of stone to marble transfiguration. Hermione kept giving him unhelpful hints until he hit upon the correct approach. He had to focus more on the composition than the colour. Later, he realised that was what exactly what had been shouted at him him minutes before. He finally succeeded in the transformation and looked up see that he was only the second one to achieve it after Hermione.

Suddenly, a Ravenclaw, Cho Chang, entered the room and gave a note to McGonagall.

'Mr Weasley, Mr Potter, Miss Granger, you are excused from the remainder of this class. I think Miss Chang will guide you.'

The three got up confusedly and followed Cho out of the room.

'What happened?' Asked Harry.

'Dumbledore wants you in his office. He said he likes Fizzing Toffees.' Cho said, growing slightly pink. She quickly hid her face and exited quickly around the corner of the corridor.

'Dumbledore.' Said Hermione,' I wonder why he wants us.'

'Your guess is as good as mine.' Harry answered. Ron merely walked on with a determined air that he would not have to wait long to find out.

'Fizzing Toffees.' He said to the stone gargoyle in front of the headmaster's office.

They parted to show the way inside. The office was as eccentric as usual to the current headmaster's tastes. An assortment of whirring, spinning instruments were scattered on the table and throughout the office. Fawkes, the flaming red phoenix, trilled a little from his perch. Dumbledore received them with a slightly troubled look on his face.

'Anything the matter, sir?' Harry asked politely.

Dumbledore shook his head,' Nothing you need worry about. There is just one problem which I keep forgetting to rectify. You only reminded me of it.'

The three took the three seats that had been conjured for them as Dumbledore motioned them to sit down.

'As I was saying, there is only one pressing concern. I am, as you know, in the habit of offering one my sweets to anyone who comes to my office. However, I am afraid, I forgot to top up my supply this year and have woefully been left with 2 Sherbet Lemons when there are three of you. It is most troubling to my conscience.'

'It's alright, professor. We don't want any.' Ron spoke up hurriedly.

'It is not the act of wanting, but rather the act of offering that counts, Mr Weasley.' Dumbledore eyes twinkled through his half-moon glasses.

'But no matter. We shall come back to it at some other time. Now you must tell me Harry,' the white bearded wizard said,' if you would like to come with me to France.'

Harry was taken aback.

He said, 'But sir, I don't want to participate in the tournament. Am I not a bit too young?'

Dumbledore beamed at him, 'That you are, Harry. But my intentions for taking you are quite different. I have been warned of a danger inside Hogwarts as Voldemort grows stronger. It is the reason the tournament was shifted to Beauxbatons.'

'Is he after me? Voldemort, I mean.'

The old wizard nodded gravely, 'In a way, yes. The other students will not be harmed. Just as a precaution, I would like to have under my eye; if you consent, of course.'

'I…' Harry looked around him, 'I'm not sure I want to go when my…'

'I anticipated the request.' Dumbledore interjected,' Which is why I have taken the liberty of calling your friends along with you to my office. Anything else, Harry?'

Harry shook his head mutely.

'Very well then. Are we agreed, Mr Weasey and Miss Granger?'

Hermione looked like Christmas had come early while Ron's mind drew imaginary pictures of him winning the cup. He nodded furiously.

'Yes, professor.' Said Hermione.

'Alright, I would prefer it if you kept this to yourselves. Necessary excuses shall be provided to your classmates at a later time. I will then expect to meet the three of you beside the Great Lake at 7 o' clock sharp tomorrow morning.'

'Tomorrow, sir?' Harry repeated.

'That is correct.'

With a wave of his hand they were dismissed.

Ron's joy knew no bounds as he almost skipped the entire way to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Harry seemed in a pensive mood while Hermione tried to cheer him up.

'What happened Harry?'

'Nothing.'

'You don't look very happy. We'll be going to France! I've only been there once with my parents. It's very pretty. You should be excited!'

'I don't know, actually. Of course I'm excited, but it doesn't feel fair somehow.'

Hermione sighed. Trust Harry to think of fairness when they had practically been given a trip to Beauxbatons with no strings attached. Well, three students would probably miss out because of them. But, oh well, it was no fault of theirs.

The common room's fire burned brightly as usual while a few students lounged about on the sofas.

'G'night Harry.' She said just before she went up to the girls' dormitories.

'Night 'Mione.' He said after her.

* * *

It was morning as the sunlight streamed through the small windows into the dormitories.

'Ron' Harry shook his friend, pausing momentarily to push back his glasses, 'Its already six-thirty! You need to wake up!'

The red-headed boy simply groaned. He got another push before he came to his senses. Ron rolled over on to his back and shakily sat up on his bed. He pushed the hangings aside and stumbled a bit as he got this feet. Harry muttered a curse as Ron promptly fell down in a heap. His friend's face completely white.

'What happened, mate? C'mon, we need to get you to the hospital wing.' Harry said.

Ignoring Ron's protest, he half dragged and half assisted Ron as he took him to Madam Pompfrey. Thankfully, not many students were about and the Marauder's Map came in useful to avoid unwelcome company. The dreary corridors soon gave way to the clinic.

Madam Pompfrey was immediately alert.

'Oh dear, oh _dear_.' She said and began casting diagnostic spells as soon as Ron was in bed.

'What happened?' She looked sharply at Harry. Harry gave a somewhat garbled account of what had happened that morning.

'No matter.' She said once he had finished, 'You can go back to classes now.'

Harry was a bit taken aback and tried to remain calm as he asked her,

'But… but can't you fix him right now?'

All he got was a cold glare, 'My dear boy, if I could I would have already. Unfortunately, your friend has got an illness called Fingroit, a mild form of Spattergroit. It will take him at least a week or two before he can even think about getting out of this bed.'

'But… but the tournament.' Harry spluttered at the same time as Ron, who seemed to have recovered partially, made an effort to get to his feet.

'I… I can do it.' Ron said weakly, his face becoming almost purple with the effort.

Madam Pompfrey looked at Harry as if he had grown a second head,

' _Surely_ you don't mean the _Triwizard_ …' She stopped herself abruptly at a sudden movement from Ron, ' _And_ _you_ , young man,' She poked her wand at Ron's chest, 'don't even think of moving from here until I say so - tournaments or not.'

She looked around for Harry but he had already gone. Gone after saying a quiet 'goodbye' to Ron.

Harry was confused to say the least. A twinge of pity remained in his heart for his friend, but he wasn't as disappointed as he would have expected himself to be. Refusing to let his emotions grow any stronger, he fairly sprinted out to the grounds just before the clock struck seven. The solitary boy found a group of students, the Headmaster and Professor Mcgonagall assembled near the Lake as he thankfully slowed his pace. As he approached, he noticed somebody arguing with Dumbledore who was patiently listening and apparently refusing him something.

At a closer look, Harry noticed that 'somebody' was Draco Malfoy.

Dumbledore seemed to magically know that he had arrived as he turned back with an indiscernible look on his face,

'Harry, I am glad to see you here in time. May I assume that Mr Weasley is on his way?'

Harry sadly shook his head and explained briefly what had happened.

'Fingroit…,' Said Dumbledore thoughtfully, 'It is very rare, I must admit. This is altogether an unfortunate incident. He will take at least 2 weeks to recover. We will have to go without him.'

A gleeful look came onto Malfoy's face.

'There, professor.' He said, barely concealing the triumph in his voice, 'You can't refuse me now.'

'No,' Replied Dumbledore gravely, after a moment's thought, 'I suppose I cannot.'

He waved his wand as a huge ornate double decker bus came into view. Harry heard Mcgonagall give an almost imperceptible sigh.

'We used this bus the last time around, Albus.' She said.

'And so we will do again.' Was the reply.

The students patiently filed onto the red bus. Harry had found Hermione and they settled themselves into seats on the second deck of the bus near the back. Once everybody was inside, the door shut themselves with a bang.

'On we go, Hagrid.' Said Dumbeldore, after another flourish of his wand.

'All righ', Headmaster!' Shouted back Hagrid from the enlarged driver's seat. The bus silently lifted off the ground and into the clouds.

'I still thin' we should've used Dragons. They go a lot faster.' Said Hagrid in his usual dialect. Dumbledore only chuckled.

* * *

Minerva Mcgonagall, now stand in Headmistress, walked slowly back across the dew covered grass towards the castle, 'Take care of the students, Minerva.' He had said just before he went, 'The school can take care of itself.'

She wondered what exactly the enigmatic white-bearded wizard had meant by that. Regardless, she was going to do her best - even if Dumbledore had prohibited use of his office.

Her left eye twitched irritably.

* * *

Meanwhile, high up in the clouds, Hermione patiently explained to Harry how exactly Malfoy had managed to worm his way into this trip. It seemed Malfoy had somehow come to know that they were leaving for France that day, inspite of the secrecy maintained. He had come fully prepared to leave Hogwarts and had been trying to convince the headmaster that he was more worthy than the students who were going. He had been refused point blank.

But after that, there was the small matter that Ron could not go and no other student could be called in time to leave for France.

Harry was livid when he heard this.

'He did this!' He almost shouted, 'Ron's not coming with us because of Malfoy!'

Hermione had anticipated this outburst and had accordingly put up a Quietus charm in their vicinity in advance.

'It does seem a somewhat fortunate coincidence for Malfoy.' Hermione agreed calmly, 'But we can't be sure, Harry.'

Harry was aghast, 'What's there not be sure about? Malfoy wants to come, he can't. Then some student who is actually going mysteriously gets an illness which will confine him to bed for weeks. _Voila!_ Enter Malfoy. Exit Ron.'

Hermione tutted impatiently, 'No, Harry. I'm almost sure he's not guilty. For one thing, he can't make someone have Fingroit and for another, he _couldn't_ have known that Ron was going to France.'

With a feeling that she had convinced Harry, she leaned back in her seat in a satisfied manner.

For a moment, Harry was stumped. But he shot back with an argument that no one else was benefitting from it. Hermione responded by saying that Ron's illness could have just been, and probably was, an unfortunate coincidence.

The rest of the journey passed in peace with Harry also attempting to make friends with a few of the older year students - most of whom he found quite nice. The seats elongated into beds for the night as Harry fell asleep while watching the solitary light from the tip of Dumbledore's wand.

Next morning they found themselves flying over green and ice-capped mountains.

It was a spectacular sight. Hagrid adventurously flew a bit lower while reassuring the others that the bus was invisible from the outside. Harry could almost see the patterns on the leaves as they rushed from his sight. Poignant green valleys and sparkling blue lakes passed by as suddenly a pure white palace came into view. It was surrounded by vast lawns on every side, which was interspersed by the occasional fountain. Narrow, shingly paths between the gardens spread out in all four directions from the palace.

The bus went lower and lower as Hagrid brought the vehicle to a halt on the ground with a screeching of brakes. A collective sigh of relief came from all the students. Dumbledore led the way as everybody else followed him out of the bus. Harry exited with a slightly awed look on his face as his ears met the sweet sound of falling water from a fountain behind him.

The entourage of Hogwarts was met by a group of students all dressed in blue. In front of them of them was a giantish lady who greeted Dumbledore with a smile.

'Good morning, Dumbly-dorr!' She said in a slightly gravelly voice.

Then she turned towards the students from Hogwarts.

'Welcome to Beauxbatons!' She said impressively, spreading her arms wide and giving them a huge smile.

A pattering of feet followed as everybody entered through a majestic archway into the main building. Hermione almost squealed in delight, the architecture was exquisite. Harry curiously looked at the other students from their school, - they were all talking excitedly in French or accented English. Some of them even pointed at him, whispering amongst themselves. Harry pushed a lock of hair in front of his scar irritably - it appeared that people had heard of him even in France.

He switched his attention back to the school. It was more of a palace rather than a castle like Hogwarts. It was also markedly less 'magical' than Hogwarts, Harry noted with some pride.

They eventually came to a vast space near the middle of the building. One huge table stretched across its length which was made out of marble. The Hogwarts students settled near the centre while those from Beauxbatons sat in a haphazard manner. Madame Maxim took the chair at the head of the table. There was space for three chairs as Dumbledore sat on her right.

Harry sat with Hermione close to a couple of French girls.

'What do you think of it?' He asked his bookish friend as they ate a very heavy breakfast.

'Its amazing!' Hermione gushed, 'Its even better than described in the books. I must find the library.'

Harry smiled, 'Yes, but I prefer Hogwarts.'

Hermione frowned, 'I suppose I do too. But I need to know more before I can decide.' She cut off abruptly. 'Look at Hagrid.' She said.

Harry turned to where she was looking. It seemed like Hagrid was saying something to Madam Maxime who was getting angrier by the second. Hagrid seemed oblivious to it. He carried on excitedly.

The Headmistress eventually stood up and shouted something at Dumbledore who in turn said something to Hagrid. The half-giant eventually resigned himself to walking away with a noticeably hurt look on his face.

'Wonder what that was about.' Harry remarked once the ruckus had subsided.

'We can ask Hagrid later.' Said Hermione.

After breakfast, a problem presented it to themselves.

'Where are we supposed to go now?' Said Hermione, 'Do they give us rooms or something?'

Harry shrugged when he noticed the two girls who were sitting beside him getting up. Hermione caught the movement and approached the them with a mischievous smile on her face.

' _Excusez - moi_.' She said in the best French she could muster, 'My friend here wants to ask you something.'

Harry found himself under the eyes of two very pretty red-haired witches.

'I…' He faltered as caught the large blue eyes of one of them. She giggled a bit. Harry immediately recollected himself. He was _not_ going to make a fool of himself.

'I well, I don't speak French.' He started.

The blue-eyed girl looked at him curiously, 'I speak a bit of English.' She said.

'I just wanted to ask if you know where the students from other schools will be accommodated.'

'You are from 'Ogwarts, _non_?' She asked. Harry nodded.

'I know the place. I will show you. It is in the west wing.' She said and shooed her friend away.

'My seester.' She said in reply to Harry's questioning glance.

'Let us go.' She motioned for Harry to follow. Harry came obediently. The words had been on the tip of his tongue that he would find the way himself but he found that he couldn't form the words.

'I'm Aurelié.' The girl said as Harry fell in step with her.

'Harry Potter.' He responded with a wary glance at her. She showed no outward signs of recognition.

'Do you like it here?' She asked, just to break the silence.

'I do, it's very beautiful. But I think I prefer my own school, though its nothing like yours.'

'I suppose we all do.' She answered diplomatically, tilting her head to one side.

They talked about a few of their shared and diverse interests for a while before Harry finally asked the question he had been longing to.

'I suppose,' Harry stole a sideways glance at the girl, 'I suppose you couldn't tell me where the Quidditch pitch is?' He said hopefully.

Aurelié gave him a half-amused smile as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

'I can.' She said, 'But I will not.'

'Why ever not?' Harry protested.

No reply followed. She refused to say even another word before they arrived in front of large door which had 'Guests' written on it in huge black lettering.

'This is where you will stay.' She told Harry and paused for a moment. 'I will meet you here at 8 tomorrow morning to take you to the Quidditch pitch. You will be there, won't you?' She looked at Harry sweetly.

'Ye…es, of course.' Harry stuttered back.

'Okay then, I must go now. Bye 'Arry!' She said as she turned back with a slight whirl of her blue robes.

'Bye Aurelié.' Harry said, not having the heart to point out that it was Harry, not 'Arry.

Hermione nudged him slightly as they found themselves inside a huge corridor with numbered doors all across the walls.

'Well done, Harry.' She said, 'On the first day too. Ron would be jealous.'

Harry looked at her while blushing slightly,' I don't think it's like that. She just wants to show me around the place.'

'And how does that account for her not having even acknowledged my presence all this while?'

Harry shrugged, a dismissive look on his face.

'I'm not complaining.' He said as he shut the door on which the word 'Harry' had appeared as soon as he had touched the doorknob.

It was not noon yet.

* * *

Dumbledore was a wise man.

Popular belief was that he put on the appearance of a senile, ageing old wizard in order to hide his true power from potential enemies. But this was not true. He was _actually_ a senile, ageing old wizard.

The only difference between him and other wizards was that he made considerably less effort to hide it. Which did not in any way diminish his prowess at magic. Such was the genius of one Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He was, at this very moment, looking thoughtfully at one of the various instruments he made a point to carry wherever he went. This particular object had been passed down to each Headmaster for generations. It alerted him when any serious harm was intended towards any one of the school's students. It was at this moment, spinning madly - which was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all, thought Dumbledore. He had a very good idea of exactly which one of his students it was referring to.

'Harry Potter.' He said out loud. He went back to thinking deeply. It seemed like all he could do these days.

* * *

The table was entirely filled at lunch as the Durmstrang continent had since arrived by ship. They were entirely clad in black and brown travelling cloaks accompanied by their sinister looking Headmaster Igor Karkaroff. The students noticeably sat a little way away the other schools', preferring to be left alone. A questionable incident had taken place on their arrival when quite a large number of dark objects had been detected by the palace wards. They had to then submit themselves for scrutiny when all the 'dark' items - blood quills, cursed rings and the like- had been carefully confiscated and disposed of. The Durmstrang students had shocked expressions and the general defence was that ' _it vas only for a harmless prank._ '  
Some adopted slightly constipated looks which they explained away as seasickness.

Hermione sat listening to Harry as his idol sat but ten metres away from him.  
'Viktor Krum... Do you think he'll talk to me, give me some Quidditch related advice maybe?' Said Harry with an awed face, looking at the famous seeker.

By some twist of fate, Draco had ended up sitting two places beside Harry.

' _Yes_ , Potter.' He said with a sneer, completely disregarding the fact that the question clearly wasn't meant for him, ' _Of_ _course_ he'll talk to you, why don't you try and see?'

'Oh yeah, Malfoy?' Shot back Harry, firing up 'And I suppose _you'll_ be best buddies in a couple of minutes? Why don't you give it a shot?'

Draco smirked at him in a very arrogant pureblood manner.

'Watch and learn, Potter.'

He slid off his seat and confidently approached Krum, somehow managing to find some place to sit beside him. To his horror, Harry found Krum turn around and say something to Draco who instantly gave superior look towards Harry.

Suddenly, to Harry's delight, Krum pushed Draco off the seat in a very humiliating manner.

There seemed to be some kind of commotion near the back end of the hall. Krum, as the rest of the Durmstrag, had got up in a frenzy. In fact, everybody seemed to getting up and gravitating towards the back. A few cheers came from there. There was almost a deafening thud of footsteps as Harry looked desperately around for Dumbledore. He was not to be found, as was Madame Maxime. Only Karkaroff was present, lounging at the table, with no interest in what was going on around him.

'Hermione!' He said excitedly, falling in with crowd,'C'mon, let's go!'

'Oh, I'm not sure, Harry. Don't you think it could be a bit dangerous?' She replied worriedly.

Harry only made an incredulous expression and dragged Hermione to her feet. He pushed her in front of him but soon lost her in the crowd.

He still surged ahead, determined to find out what was going on. Amid the multitude of people, he suddenly found himself falling forward. He grabbed the thing closest to him, which was the shirt of the person who tripped him. They fell down in a heap, his head mere inches from the wall.

He felt a weight, quite a soft weight, land on him which quickly rolled off. As the dizzying feeling dissipated, he dimly saw an outstretched hand towards him which he refused and pushed himself to his feet, quite unaware of the shocked expression on the person's face. He stood up straight and looked directly ahead, quite unable to focus on what was in front of him.

'Ere' The person said in a distinctly female, French voice, 'Let me help you.'

She then proceeded to take his glasses from him and tapped them with her wand.

'You can see me now, can't you?' She said, looking at him worriedly as the world spun back into focus for Harry. He found himself looking back into a pair of deep blue eyes which seemed to almost draw him in. Her pale blonde hair had an almost silvery sheen to it. Her features exuded perfection. Something made want Harry to go closer, but he withheld the urge. It would surely be disastrous.

Suddenly, afraid that he had let his gaze wander a second too long, Harry quickly replied,

'Yes, thanks for, you know, repairing my glasses.'

'It was my pleasure, Harry…' Her voice had a faint questioning tone to it. Harry was confused, then suddenly realised.

'Of course, my scar.' He quickly pushed a lock of hair over it.

'I'm sorry.' Said the girl sympathetically, 'I know how it feels.'

'Oh, I didn't mean to… to say that aloud.' Harry said hurriedly 'But… but what do you mean by saying you know how it feels?'

'Maybe some other time.' She replied and turned back.

'Wait!' Said Harry, 'I didn't catch your name.'

She turned back slowly, smiling a little,

'You can call me Fleur.' She said before quickly joining her friend who was watching them with a curious look on her face.

Harry stood like that for a few moments. He found the girl distinctly pretty, although a trifle arrogant in her manner. But he supposed he shouldn't judge her on one meeting. The thought of meeting her again seemed quite appealing to him.

But he shook himself out of his musings, once again looking across to gathering at the rear end of the hall. He slowly walked across, knowing that there was no way he could get to the front. A huge circle seemed to have formed around a clearing. Suddenly a magnified voice came from the middle, 'PLEASE MOVE AWAY FROM HERE!' To Harry's pleasant surprise, the crowd parted in front of him as it formed a bigger circle.

He could now see what was going on. Two wizards stood there, wands in their hands and facing each other. Confidence oozed from them. One of them reminded Harry of Gilderoy Lockhart. His smug smile was especially reminiscent.

'Who are they?' He asked an older Beauxbatons student standing beside him.

'Mr Durant, our Defence professor and Pierre, an old student of our school.' Came the curt reply.

Harry noted the Mr Durant similarity in appearance to Lockhart, though it was very probable that the similarity ended there.

The atmosphere was crackling with anticipation.

'How many times have I told you Pierre? _Don't_ come back to this school.' The silky voice of the Defence Professor was punctuated by a short spell after each word he said.

Pierre's green shield shimmered in front of him. Not a crack showed on it.

'I will do as I please.' He said back in a pleasantly firm voice. He had black eyes and brown hair accompanied by a stiff posture.

'You know you don't want to do this.' Warned Durant.

'I think I do.'

'A duel it is then.'

They briskly walked a few paces away and faced each other. They bowed and instantly a red 'Stupefy' came fizzing towards Durant. A cloud of smoke erupted where he was. Pierre stood waiting as three identical beams of light rushed towards him from the fog. He deftly sidestepped and the smoke suddenly vanished. Durant stood there with a slightly impressed look on his face.

'You've improved.' He said, while lazily deflecting a Reducto.

He suddenly burst into action as lights began to fly around the place. A golden ring around them prevented any students from getting nearer. Intricate chain of spells were weaved with ease as gashes appeared on the duellers' arms and face. It was clear that things had become serious when a stray spell burst a section of the wall into pieces.

Amid the action, the huge marble door to the hall suddenly spread wide open. Dumbledore entered majestically,

'WHAT is going on here?!' Madame Maxime shouted from beside him.

The old wizard had meanwhile closed his eyes and was concentrating hard at something. Suddenly, amidst the duel, the two wands of the duelists right flew from their hands into the hands of Dumbledore. The faces of Durant and Pierre were a sight to behold. They were beyond enraged and their faces shifted between being outraged and astonished at Dumbledore's display of power.

The student crowd quietly and orderly dispersed under the commanding stares of their superiors. They reluctantly shuffled back to their seats at the table. Harry was pleased to find Hermione in one piece.

'Fantastic, wasn't it?' He asked eagerly.

'Disastrous would be more like it.' Replied Hermione drily, 'Although I would be interested to know how Dumbledore did it.'

Harry quietly muttered ' _Spoilsport_ ' under his breathe. He then silently watched on as Madame Maxime gave a formal apology to the visitors. It clearly hurt her pride, but she recognised that some things had to be done.

'I'll be going to the library after lunch.' Announced Hermione.

Harry shrugged,' I'll be around, I guess. I think I'll attend some of the classes.'

'That's a good idea. You better find some fourth years you can ask.'

Harry nodded and got up with a slight spring in his step.

'I think I'll attend the defence and transfiguration classes.'

The classrooms were bigger than Hogwarts was the first thing Harry noticed. It also had a few windows which opened to the lawns outside the school. A cool breeze floated in, blowing a few sheets of paper and pens away. They used pens, Harry noticed. Real muggle pens. It was unusual, but he liked it. He took a seat near the front of the class with a quiet, studious looking guy with enormous front teeth. All the talking subsided as their Transfiguration teacher walked in. He was very professional looking person who seemed to look right through people, which was a very unnerving experience.

'Today we will be learning how to transfigure wooden objects into identical metal ones. Beware of loosing focus during the transfiguration, in which case you will not succeed. It is all about intent and how you direct it.'

He continued to expound on the theory behind it which Harry found quite refreshing. Mcgonagall would usually just explain the basics and leave them on their own to figure out the rest. He had done this particular transfiguration and was interested to see how the students of Beauxbatons would react.

It turned out that not a single person was able to do it. Harry looked curiously at the boy beside him,

'Here, I think you're trying too hard.'

The boy with jutting out teeth looked back at him defiantly, 'That ees what I am supposed to do.'

'Maybe you should try to do… do it as you feel it.' Harry offered.

The boy scoffed - but sure enough, after a minute or two silver spots began to appear on the wooden box.

He still carried the same defiant face but it noticeably softened.

* * *

Harry walked away from the fairly uneventful class. Defence was next. If Mr Durant was anything like he had seen, it promised to be more than interesting. He slowly walked along the marble corridor with his hands in his pockets.

'Harry!' Hermione suddenly shot around the corner towards him, waving a piece of paper towards him. Harry stepped back, a bit unsettled.

'What's the matter?'

'I can't believe this! It's about Hogwarts.' Hermione said excitedly. Her cheeks more flushed than usual from running.

'What?!'

'Look at this.' Hermione showed Harry the piece of paper. 'It says that Hogwarts is the only school in the entire world which uses house elves.'

'House whats?' Said Harry, clearly puzzled.

'Elves.' Hermione enunciated clearly, 'Here, read this.'

She shoved the bit of paper into his hands.

' _Hogwarts_ ,' Harry read, ' _The premier school of Britain, thought to be situated in Scotland, has devised a completely novel method of catering to the needs of its large student populace. It has been obtained from a reliable source that house elves are employed for meeting the daily requirements of the castle, …It has the largest population of house elves in a single accommodation in all of Europe.'_

'This!' Hermione shoved her finger onto the line that Harry just read, 'Can you imagine, Harry? The food we eat, the mess we make in the common room - the house elves take care of all of it!'

Harry nodded confusedly, 'That's good, I guess.'

Hermione irritably turned over the paper and showed it to Harry,

'Read this! It's written here that the house elves aren't paid for their work. Not a single penny. It's all slave labour. Can you believe it?'

As a matter of fact, Harry could believe it. The kind of things he had come to expect from wizards matched exactly with what Hermione said. But he couldn't say that to her face.  
But she had already continued talking,

'But this book is pretty old. I'm sure Dumbledore pays them, don't you think so?' She said.

'Ye-es.' Harry said unconvincingly.

'I'll have to ask him. Remind me to do that, Harry.'

She would have gone on to say more but Harry interrupted her.

'I… umm, Hermione.' He said apologetically, taking a quick look at the non-existent watch on his wrist, 'I have to go to another class, I'll get late. I'll see you around.'

He quickly retreated around a corner, trying not to laugh at Hermione's incredulous and slightly annoyed face. He walked quickly, trying to locate the classroom.  
But soon, despite the clear instructions he had been given, he was lost. He kept walking around the place, trying to elicit some English from a few of the students he , with a relieved sigh he noticed Aurelie walking in front of him.

'Aurelie!' He said, falling in step with her, 'I need your help.'

Aurelie looked at him with a pleasant smile on her face.

'Harry, I didn't expect you so soon.' She gave a small emphasis on the word 'soon'.

Harry grew slightly red.

'No, its just that I can't find the defence classroom.' He said.

'You want to attend Mr Durant's class?' Aurelie asked in a slightly surprised tone.

'Yes.' Said Harry.

'I don't think you'll want to.' She said, after a moment.

'Why not?'

'It's just,' Aurelie shook her head, 'You'll find out. Come with me. I'm going for defence right now too.'

Harry looked at her in astonishment.

'You're in fourth year too?'

'Yes.' She said, 'Why? You look surprised.'

'Nothing.' Harry mumbled, 'You just look older.'

Aurelie gave a slight tinkling laugh.

* * *

There was an aura about the Defence classroom that Harry just couldn't grasp. It was slightly dark, lit only by a few lanterns and… majestic, for the lack of a better word. There was a huge space cleared front of the class for duelling and the seats were arranged in a semi-circular fashion around it at a slightly higher level.

Harry took a seat at the front alongside Aurelie, much to her amusement.

'You could've sat anywhere and you choose to sit here.' She teased him.

Harry stumbled at a few words before speaking,

'It's just that… you're the only person I know in here.' He said.

He only got back an amused look.

'Relax, Harry,' Aurelie said, 'I'm only teasing you. Both of us know why you wanted to sit here.'

This time, Harry wisely kept his mouth shut.

Mr Durant walked inside in a black cloak in a way strangely reminiscent of Snape. But he unfastened the cloak and kept it on a chair afterwards. The room grew silent with expectation as Mr Durant's eyes roved over the group of students. He kept making little comments as he looked at each student. He said it without much force, but somehow it carried throughout the room.

'Very good Michel, you've haven't forgotten to practice this time around, have you? And you, Sophia - looking as charming as ever - but lets hope your spells are just as potent. Ah, Mr Black - I see you've finally done us the favour of attending my class.'

The little stream of observations continued until they came to a stop on Harry.

'And who's this here? I don't recall seeing you here before, young man. What's your name?' Mr Durant asked, his voice dangerously prosaic.

'Harry Potter.' Came the reply. Harry was sure the man knew his name but still purposely made him say it.

'Ah.' Said Mr Durant softly, ' _Le garçon_ who lived, isn't it? You are one of those who came from Hogwarts, I expect. I've heard only sixth or seventh years were brought. But then, you've always been quite exceptional, haven't you?'

Silence intruded upon the gathering but Harry was not forthcoming with a reply.

'Alright then, let's see what you're capable of.' Said Mr Durant.

He whipped out a wand as fast as lighting and shouted out ' _Stupefy_!'. Almost as fast, Harry's green shield was shining in front of him. But no spell hit it. The professor had not cast any spell at all.

'Very good.' Said Mr Durant, almost to himself. 'You may sit down.' He told Harry.

Harry sat down, a bit puzzled, wondering if he had done the right thing since no spell was cast at him. But he had a small feeling of pride at being able to produce the _Protego_ so quickly.

'That was marvellous, Harry! Did you see that look on Mr Durant's face?' Aurelie said in amazement.

Harry muttered a small 'I don't know.' but inside that feeling of pride grew. He hadn't done much, but for what it was worth, Mr Durant would know that he wasn't completely inept.

Meanwhile Durant had already started teaching,

'Today, my lesson will consist of two parts. For the first part you are required to pair up and practice the disarming spell.' He stopped for a moment, looking at the incredulous faces of his students.  
'No, I am not mad, I assure you. I expect you to be relatively proficient at this particular spell; or at least, you should be. But this time your aim will primarily be not to cast it, but to defend against it. For the lack of a better word, immunise yourself to it. Have you ever wondered why so few duels end with the wand flying out the owner's hand? It is because, with considerable experience, one can become so attuned to their own wand that disarming techniques will become obsolete against the wizard. The wand will resist to go away from the wizard. But I talk of something far beyond you. I want you to practice with a very low powered disarming spell. Cast the spell as carelessly as you can. Your partner will not attempt to block it but rather focus on his/her own wand. Try your best to not let it slip out of fingers.'

He directed a wry smile towards his students.  
'Let's see what you can do.'

Then he flicked his wands as the chairs and tables all vanished.

'I trust you kept your wands on your person, as any sensible wizard should. Else you will have to wait until the end of the class. Anybody who has done so may leave the class and come to collect his/her belongings after it over.'

He waved his wands as the doors opened, allowing a bit of light to come in.

'No one?' He asked, his eyes roving over the students, 'Mr Black?'

Mr Black gave the professor a baleful look and walked out of the room. The doors shut with a bang.

'Well, this should allow you to pair up completely.' Mr Durant said and suddenly gave a short, silky laugh.

Nobody else even smiled.

'Get to work, then. I will be watching.' He said as everybody obediently got into pairs and stood about five feet away from each other. Mr Durant had been correct, there had been no odd one left.

Harry focused on his wand and motioned Aurelie to start. He gripped his wand tightly. But nevertheless, inspite of how weakly the spell had been cast, his wand landed ten feet away on the ground.

He picked his wand up and looked at motioned Aurelie to cast again with a determined look on his face. His knuckles grew almost white as he clutched his wand only for it to tremble a little before falling to the ground, but not as far away.

They continued this way for quite some while before Mr Durant called out.

'Exchange your roles, please.'

Aurelie smiled charmingly at Harry. 'Looks like its my turn now.'

Harry looked at her amusedly, 'You know, its not easy.'

'I noticed.' She motioned around her at all the others who were having as much, if not more difficulty than Harry did.

Harry shrugged.

'Okay, then.'

True to his word, her wand went soaring into the air.

Mr Durant took this moment to arrive on the scene.

'So, let's see how you two are faring.'

'Not very well, sir.' Aurelie said dejectedly.

'I wouldn't expect you to,' Said Mr Durant, 'Only a wizard of very caliber could be expected to even partially resist it.'

Aurelie frowned towards Mr Durant.

'If it's so hard, why are we doing this at all?'

He sighed, 'Your magic, dear girl. I said earlier that as you practice this, your wand will become more attuned to your wants and respond better than before. As a result, your spells will become stronger and more precise. It is very important to keep trying, trust me.'

Aurelie nodded in understanding, appreciating the depth of what she was doing.

'Okay then, show me how far you've reached.' He said.

Harry got into position and shot a very weak ' _Expelliarmus_ ' towards his counterpart. She, as instructed, did not block it. Her wand predictably flew out of her fingers.

Mr Durant went on to explain how it was more of her focusing on keeping the wand to herself rather than gripping it tightly that mattered.

Harry was slightly fascinated by the entire proceedings. At Hogwarts he had never yet had a teacher whose career was based on teaching Defence. It was always somebody whose profession was never teaching, and even they wouldn't stay for more than a year.

It was interesting to see how teaching was done in France. It was refreshing, to say the least.

After another half an or so, Mr Durant called the proceedings to a halt. Everybody heaved a sigh of relief as they picked up their wands for one last time. The drill had quite inexplicably exhausted everyone even though there was not much physical or magical exertion involved. The desk and chairs came back once more as the students collapsed wearily on their seats. The obsidian walls gave off a slight flicker from the torches as Mr Durant spoke up again.

'You have done well.' He said in a voice that indicated he wasn't completely satisfied.

'You see, a point I want to make is - this is important.' He said gravely, 'Understand this, I cannot emphasise enough on how important this is for wizards and witches of you age. It will enhance your magic. It will bring improvement in all aspects. I want you to arrange a partner and practice this whenever you can.'  
He looked into everybody's eyes one by one. 'We will do this once every week for the rest of the year and I will gauge how much you have been practising.'

'And now,' He continued, ' to come to the second part of today's lesson. This should be…ah, more _restful_ for you but I expect the same amount of concentration you have shown until now. Understand that I will be making some effort to show you how a duel should be fought and exhibit certain tactics that are commonly used nowadays. Today morning's debacle should not serve as a basis for your knowledge of duels. I have asked one of my best students to assist me in instructing you by acting as duelling partner. Please welcome - Fleur Delacour.'

Fleur emerged from the shadows at the back of the class dressed in blue duelling robes and hauntingly beautiful to Harry's eyes.

 **A/N:  
** **If the chapters are going to be as long as this, don't expect quick updates. Most of all, I'll love to read your reviews and know what you thought of this. Just tell me how it was, I don't mind anyone pointing out my mistakes. Reviews give me the motivation to write more. Thank you for taking out your time to read this.**

 **\- Notyou21**


	2. Curiosity

**A/N: Happy 2019 everybody! I was absolutely bowled over by the response I got. Thanks for all the suggestions and interest. Let me just clarify that Harry won't become very powerful all of a sudden. I know it has been done in a lot of places but I'll stick to canon power level for a bit before slowly pulling away. He will become powerful, but not spontaneously. I'll also like to add that all characters have an underlying reason to their behaviour, which may or may not be evident. For anyone curious, the French language disparity will be cleared up in the next chapter. That's all for now.**

Somewhere not very far away in a deceptively ordinary room with no windows a person kneeled in front of a wall. Two ancient torches had been strategically placed at some distance apart at chest height. They waned intermittently - and between the torches a shadow flickered ever so slightly.

But that was enough for the loyal devotee who regarded the mere shade with benevolence at first sight, and fear at the second. Another strange thing about the room was that it had no doors, and the walls were made to be impenetrable by all but the strongest magic.

There were woefully alone - the shade and its advocate.

'My lord…' The devotee's voice trembled with practised fearfulness.

'You may rise.' A voice came from somewhere in the vicinity of the shade. It was a shrill whisper, almost pitiful to hear. But it struck terror into the listener's heart. The voice was stronger than before, he was gaining power.

'My lord,' the person said, 'The first stage of our plan has succeeded. But I fear the Goblet will not be so easy to fool. As you said yourself, it is guarded…'

'Fool!' Hissed the voice from the shade, its shrillness almost painful to hear, 'Utter fool! Is this how you expect to gain my favour?! You will not complain. You will carry out my bidding, or suffer the consequences. Be glad that I have not attained my form yet.'

The person listened to all this with quiet detachment. It was not the first time that he had to listen to this sort of tirade. But this time the shade seemed to sense the effect, or lack thereof, his words had on his only advocate.

Suddenly the torches burned wildly and a sense of complete weakness came upon the follower. Pain shot up from his feet to his head. The only person in the room fell down, arms flailing wildly.

'You will do as I said.' The voice came in almost a whisper from the disembodied shadow, but the threat was evident. The torches went out all of a sudden, hissing in the darkness.

Some of the strength had now returned to the stricken. The dismissal was understood.

With a crack not quite entirely unlike disapparation, the room was suddenly empty.

A cruel laughter faded away into oblivion.

* * *

Harry stood, enraptured by the performance that he was receiving. In fact, by now all the students had gotten up. A transparent shield guarded them from stray spells. Fleur was holding her own against the more experienced defence professor. Mr Durant kept shouting out common techniques and defences to the students. Some of them were scribbling madly while others simply enjoyed the duel. Fleur shot a stunner to the right of Mr Durant which was followed by another to his left.

'That was the Crombie attack!' Shouted out Durant, shielding against an orange spell directed at him.

'The Coulier Counter!' He shouted once more while running with his shied towards Fleur, dispelling it at the last moment and firing an expelliarmus at her midriff and her feet. To his disappointment, he found Fleur appearing behind him. He quickly motioned for her to stop.

'That was a very good use of an illusion during a fight.' He directed this remark towards his students. While my shield momentarily distracted me from seeing her, she disillusioned herself and left an image of her for me to attack.'

Fleur smiled a little.

'And that was a demonstration of how proper duels should happen, even though none of us were serious. Nevertheless, a small applause for Miss Delacour would be well deserved.'

Everybody instantly started clapping, even a few hoots were heard. Fleur simply smiled constrainedly and vanished through the back door.

'Class is over.' announced Mr Durant.

Harry left the classroom with Aurelie.

'That was awesome!' Harry burst out as soon as they were outside.

'That's what all the boys will say.' Said Aurelie, bitterly.

'Why? What?' Harry stuttered a bit., 'Didn't you like it?'

'Of course I did! It was amazing. But I'm not sure all of us thought the duel was the best part.'

' _I_ did.' Protested Harry, ignoring his slightly guilty feeling. It was true, he did think the duel was the best part. It was just that it wasn't the _only_ part.

'Didn't you hear what some of the other boys were saying just now?'

'What?'

'Oh, only _I wish she showed a bit more leg_ ' She mimed. Harry almost choked with embarrassment. Time to take the conversation away, he thought.

'Why… why are you so bothered by it?' He asked.

'You would be too, if you knew her side of the story.'

'You're friends?' Harry asked cautiously.

'The best.' Said Aurelie, a slight grin on her face, 'I bet you'll like to be friends with her too.'

'I don't know.' He shrugged unconcernedly.

'But then, you always have me.'

'I… guess.' Harry said, 'You know what, I'm getting late for dinner. I'll see you later.'

'Sure.' Said Aurelie, 'Tomorrow, if you care about your Quidditch.'

She skipped away merrily towards another girl walking on the other side of the passage.

Harry remembered their appointment the next day with a shock. Ah well, how bad could it go? He quickened his pace as he approached the table. Somehow, it managed to capture his awe once more. It was massive with a vaulted white roof at the top and traditional french carvings on its sides. The table was populated with a crowd of students in different colours. He found Hermione waving at him. He smiled and went and sat down beside her.

'How was your day, Harry?' She asked brightly.

'Not too bad. I just saw an amazing duel back in the Defense classroom.'

'Between whom?' Hermione leaned forward with interest.

'Mr Durant and somebody named Fleur Delacour.'

'Oh really? That's nice.' She suddenly sounded a bit distracted as she spoke, probably thinking about something she read in a book earlier. Harry followed her gaze towards the head of the table where the Heads of the school sat. He saw nothing of much interest.

Harry was a bit annoyed at the docile response, but he didn't say anything else.

They ate in silence while his thoughts wandered to how the next day would be. To be honest, he was actually feeling a tinge of nervousness in the new surroundings. They were just so unfamiliar.

That night he had a very unusual dream. He dreamt he was a shadow, without any body; and strangely mutilated - as if a very important part of him had been torn away. He could see himself flitting around the walls of Beauxbatons. A feeling of anguish came over him: he could not get inside. Something… someone was preventing him. The thoughts were strangely foreign, as if they were not his own. Then a strange voice spoke out of nowhere, in almost a whisper,

 _'_ _Harry Potter.'_

Harry woke up breathing heavily, his eyes slowly getting used to the darkness around him. He had just realised something - the voice speaking had been his own.

* * *

The room was mostly dark except for a few purple and orange lights flashing and twinkling intermittently. There was complete silence. The most powerful wizard in the palace was sleeping when a feather rose from a huge ornate, wooden table near his bed. It drifted steadily towards the sleeping man and positioned itself carefully in front of his ear. Dumbledore woke up with a start. His ear was still ticklish as he willed the feather to his hand. He lifted the lone feather to his ear, as if listening for something. With a slightly surprised look he place the feather back on the table and summoned his wand. With a silent spell he was dressed in his usual midnight blue robes.

With another twitch of his wand, his nightcap vanished from his head. Soon he was walking on the vast gardens of Beauxbatons with only one thought in his mind - _What was Harry doing outside the palace?_

The very object of his thoughts soon arrived in front of him, but only one person was surprised at this apparent coincidence.

'Professor… Professor Dumbledore?' Harry said in surprise, taking off his invisibility cloak, 'What are you doing here?'

'Alas Harry! That is a question I ask myself everyday, but I have yet found no answer.' Came the enigmatic reply.

Harry simply stared at the old wizard and adopted an appropriate wise expression. He couldn't find any way to further what may be constituted as a conversation.

Luckily, and unlike some other times he could think of, Dumbledore came to the rescue.

'What brings you here, my dear boy?' He asked. Harry was tempted to reply in the manner as Dumbledore had but decided that he wasn't old enough.

'I had a dream. I… I couldn't sleep after that.' Said Harry honestly.

'Indeed, what sort of dream?'

Harry explained it as best as he could, while the old man simply listened in silence. Dumbledore gave a huge sigh at the end of his description.

'I feared… I feared very much that it might come to this. Tell me, were you feeling strong or perhaps a bit weak?' Asked Dumbledore.

'Very weak.' Replied Harry instantly.

'That is… good news.' The reply was slow and thoughtful, 'You need not worry about it, Harry. Just tells me the next time it happens, if it does.'

'But what does it mean?'

A long period of silence was followed by a quiet dismissive reply,

'Nothing much, only the tremors of what it is yet to come.' Dumbledore then disappeared into the night, leaving Harry to his own thoughts. The boy with a scar on his forehead was troubled, he hated it when things weren't explained clearly to him, which had a happened a lot in the past few years. For the first time, he felt a burning curiosity of the like he had never felt before. Somebody's advice came back to him. An advice which had been offered many times but rarely been given even the tiniest consideration.

With a purposeful step, Harry headed towards the library.

The Beauxbatons library was practical. The books were arranged in neat little rows and columns in shelves inside the walls which reached up to the very top of the high roof. The covers were mostly red, brown or green with golden markings on them. There was the usual dusty smell of old books and parchment, creating an overall cozy atmosphere. Harry craned his neck to read the book titles in the higher racks but some of them seemed to be written in an indecipherable language. After a while, he couldn't even make out the letters. He pondered along the lower shelves, scrutinising them deeply. After a while, a sleepy looking librarian in a nightdress approached him. He looked at the boy sharply through his monocles.

' _Que faites-vous?_ ' He said. What are you doing?

He then made a show of looking at his watch. Harry looked at him, puzzled. This was the first time someone had addressed him in french.

'English?' He asked hopefully.

' _Non_.' Replied the librarian. He scrunched his eyebrows thoughtfully.

'Dumbledore?' He said.

'Yes. I'm from Dumbledore's school.' Harry replied eagerly, thankful that the librarian caught on quickly.

The sleepy man waved his hands dismissively and muttered something incomprehensible. He then started walking towards the back of the place. Harry looked at his retreating form in apprehension. He needed to find a book. Surely the librarian could help.

'Hey, mister.' He called towards him. 'I need your help.'

The man turned back in slight irritation.

' _Quoi_?' He asked, his tone a bit harsh.

Through a complicated series of motions which involved pointing to his head, pointing to the shelves and repeating that for quite a few times, Harry finally managed to convey what he wanted to the librarian. The librarian lead him to a shelf, grunted out something and walked away at an astonishingly quick pace.

It was clear that he wasn't paid for night shifts.

Harry heaved a sigh of relief and looked at the towering shelves which loomed above him. Thankfully, most of the titles were in English. Not so thankfully, there were too many books to count. Selecting a book at random, Harry started reading the book with concentrated fervour. It was a detailed account of an art called Occulumency.

 _An arcane and oft lightly dismissed branch of wandless magic, Occulumency has its origins deeply rooted in the times of Merlin, specifically during the War of Peace. It was harsh time, with both sides trying hard to keep up with the other. Secrets were impossible to keep. The enemy would be forewarned of almost every attack and its respective tactics, courtesy of the ancient art of Leglimency. Merlin was thus forced to devise a method to counter its attack - and Occulumency was created. It was initially crude and easily detectable, albeit effective. The War was, not surprisingly, won soon after its inception. Centuries later it has evolved to a point wherein, with sufficient expertise, it is impossible to determine whether someone has employed Occumlumency or not, and to distinguish between true thought and a false trail of images left by the expert Occulumens. This is the reason due to which courts do not allow its use or trust any evidence thus presented. In a recent…_

This was followed by a drawn out description of how to start learning it. It included several mind exercises which Harry initially perused with interest. But gradually he started to feel a bit dizzy. Maybe it was the long, technically phrased paragraphs in small sized print or the homely warmth of the library.

Harry Potter was fast asleep in ten minutes.

* * *

The students of Beauxbatons were not very different from the ones at Hogwarts in one particular respect. They were all fond of sleep, except for a few fitness freaks. However it was not someone in track suit who found Harry in the library. Far from it. It was someone who had her priorities carefully placed and sleeping was not anywhere near the top of it.

'Harry!' Hermione almost shouted in surprise when she saw his sleeping figure slouched over a book.

Over a book. In a _library_. Hermione nearly tried to check his pulse, but desisted and opted for an Aguamenti instead. This was after she had carefully removed the book from his hands, of course.

'Arrghzca!' Harry sat up in shock, rubbing his neck. His pleasant dream had been interrupted just at the wrong moment.

'Hermione?' He asked questioningly, quickly drying himself off and matting down his hair.

'Hi Harry! I'm so glad you finally decided to take your studies seriously. I mean, I really think it was time you realised that exams were not something you could give after preparing just a month or so. Well, I won't say I told you so now that you've realised yourself how imp…' .

Hermione suddenly trailed off as she realised that Harry wasn't paying any attention to her at all.

'Harry!' She said irritably.

'Yes… yes, I was listening! Go o…' Harry's voice stuck in his throat before he could get the words ' _Go on'_ out of his mouth. He just couldn't.

Hermione huffed and looked in another direction. She picked up the book Harry was reading.

'What's this? _Occulumency: A Contemporary Analysis_. What's that? I've never heard of it. Sounds like pretty advanced stuff.'

She looked up after reading the first page of the introduction. No, she did not flip the pages. Hermione simply did not flip through books - that was sacrilege.

'Why are you reading this?' She asked, unable to conceal the surprise in her voice.

The boy shrugged. He wasn't ready to deal with another barrage of questioning.

'I felt like it.' He said.

'Well, I'll leave you to it then.' A small tinge of pride crept into her voice. She got up, said a quiet goodbye and left the library.

Harry read the book for some more time and finally decided that it was impossible for him to learn on his own. He had to get someone to help him. The problem was, he didn't know whom to ask. It was highly unlikely any of the Hogwarts students would have even heard of it. The same applied for the other school's students. A professor then. It couldn't be Dumbledore, he had already shown exactly how much he was willing to help. Mr Durant was a possibility, but he had to be convinced.

Harry left the library with his hands in his pockets, deep in thought. Students in blue milled around him, with the occasional sprinkling of black and yellow. He walked around aimlessly for a while before a thought struck him. A very important thought. He brought out his wand and muttered _Tempus_.

 **12:32.**

He buried his face in his hands. He had missed his appointment with Aurelie. He looked miserably at the glowing white numbers. Right then, with amazing timing, the person he wanted to least see at this moment appeared in front of him.

' _Potte_ r.' Draco sneered, 'Finally realised how pathetic you are?'

'Go away, Malfoy.' Harry said tiredly, 'I don't have time for all this.'

'And I don't have the patience to talk to you. So get out my way.'

'I'd rather not.'

And without saying another word, Harry pushed past his nemesis. The Malfoy scion looked behind in astonishment and rage. He would not tolerate such disrespect. HIs raised his wand at Harry's back, a hex on the tip of his tongue, and let fire. Suddenly a glowing green shield appeared in front of it and a yellow streak shot past it and hit straight at Draco's chest.

Some of the students around stepped back in caution. Corridor duels had zero tolerance in Beauxbatons. Sure enough, an imperious Monsieur Durant came striding around the corner.

'Hogwarts!' He shouted. Harry and Draco looked at the professor.

'Follow me.' Came the order. The two rule-breakers were lead around a maze of corridors until they finally approached a door with _Durant_ written on top of it.

'Inside.' The professor ordered, 'Sit.' He pointed them to two chairs in front of a table. He himself conjured a chair and sat in front of them.

'You represent your school and all it stands for. Do you truly wish to dishonour its name?' He asked pointedly. Two heads shook mutely.

'Who fired the first shot?'

'He did.' Said Harry. Draco opened his mouth at the same time but no words came out. His face grew red and he furiously pointed at Harry.

Faint traces of a smile appeared on Mr Durant's face. He looked at Harry.

'I assume this is your doing. This was the spell which you hit him with, no?'

Harry nodded, struggling to keep his face serious. Draco had started rocking his chair in an attempt to gain their attention by now.

Mr Durant dispelled the charm with a swish of his wand.

'You!' Draco burst out furiously, pointing at Harry. 'You fired at me while my back was turned! How dare you injure a Malfoy.'

Harry looked at Draco with his mouth open. Wasn't _he_ the one who fired at his back?!

'I swear…' Harry started insistently.

'That would be enough.' Mr Durant said quietly. 'May I remind you that there were plenty of eyewitnesses and I already took the precaution of questioning a few students. Perhaps one of you would admit that you were mistaken.'

He looked pointedly at Draco. Draco kept quiet as Mr Durant knowingly turned his face back to Harry.

'But he fired at me!' Draco burst out in indignation, 'He injured a Malfoy!'

Durant turned back to Draco with a raised eyebrow.

'Losing your voice for few minutes could hardly be qualified as an injury, Mr _Malfoy_. However, I concede that he should not have fired at you. An apology would be in order, I believe.'

Malfoy immediately adopted a smug look on his face but Durant soon took care of that.

'From both of you.'

'Sorry, _Draco_.' Said Harry, barely stopping himself from smiling. Draco would have to swallow some of his pride now.

'Apology accepted.' Said Draco. A stern look came from Durant.

Malfoy gritted his teeth for a few moments but finally said,

'Sorry, Potter.' He mumbled.

'May I go now?' He asked Mr Durant.

'Of course.' Durant's hand waved towards the door.

The door shut with a small bang. Harry immediately accosted the professor.

'You didn't speak with any people in the corridor. You didn't have any time.' He said.

'That's right.' Said Mr Durant airily.

'You didn't know who fired first or anything.'

'Right again.' Said Durant, smiling a bit now, 'However, I did have my suspicions.'

A bubble of laughter formed in Harry's throat. Draco had dug his own grave and he hadn't even known about it. The professor was smarter than he looked and Harry suspected an implied mutual dislike of Draco Malfoy. Nothing could possibly be better…

In that moment, Harry found the courage to ask him the question which had been pressing him for hours.

'Professor.' He started with a slightly questioning tone.

Yes?' Durant was busy looking for somethings in the drawer of his desk which seemed to be considerably larger than it looked. In fact, Durant was currently inside the drawer up to his his waist. His voice came slightly muffled to Harry.

'I wanted to ask you something.'

The Defence professor straightened up.

'Go on.'

'I was wondering if you could teach me Occulumency.'

Mr Durant involuntarily froze at that question but answered smoothly,

'That is a question you should ask your headmaster. He is an acknowledged expert in that particular field of magic.'

'But I… I would rather you teach it to me.'

Durant paused for a few moments before answering.

'I will not ask why you want to learn it, since I believe it is a skill every witch or wizard should have some familiarity with. I am touched that you asked me. However, as you know, I am a very busy man. I will not have the time or patience to do it myself, I am afraid. But if you are willing, I could arrange for somebody to assist you.'

Harry sighed in relief. It was as good as he could have expected.

'Thank you very much, sir. And, well… I'd rather this remain a secret, if you don't mind.'

There was silence for a few long seconds before the answer came.

'But of course, Harry… wasn't it?' His voice dangerously lingered on the name before he proceeded.

'I'll see you later, Harry. 9 pm. tomorrow would be good. At my office.'

'I'll be there. Bye, sir.'

* * *

That day Harry did not meet Aurelie, so he enlisted Hermione's help. The common area in front of their rooms was quite big and more importantly, did not have many people in it.

Hermione followed Harry and listened carefully to what he was saying.

'Cast the disarming spell at me as weakly as you can.' He said, 'I'll try to avoid its effects.'

Hermione looked at him confusedly,

'You mean you'll cast a shield? Or dodge?'

'No. I'll… I'll try not to be disarmed.'

'So you _will_ cast a shield?'

'Nooo!' Harry's voice lifted slightly in frustration, 'I won't do anything.'

'Then how will you avoid it?'

Harry launched into a long explanation of what had happened in the last Defence class. Hermione was a good listener.

'Ah,' She said at the end, 'I've never thought of it that way. I'll have to read up on it a bit.'

'Good.' Said Harry, 'Now can we start?'

An hour of energy sapping practice followed at the end of which Harry felt nothing other than a slight tingling in his hand every time his wand flew out of it. They finally stopped when Hermione noticed Harry drop his wand even before she cast the spell.

'Are you sure you should be doing this?' She asked concernedly.

' _Yes_.' Said Harry determinedly.

A few moments passed before Hermione spoke again.

'Why?' She said.

' _Why?_ ' Harry stared at here as if she was crazy. He had just told her why he was doing this.

'Yes, why. I think there's more to it than you think.'

'Why can't you just accept what I said?'

'Harry… you know there's a reason why they never teach advanced magic to us students. It can cause magical exhaustion and even death.'

' _You can't seriously…_ ' Harry started.

'I'm not.' Hermione said patiently, 'I just think you ought to know the details before committing yourself.'

She sounded like she was hiding something. Harry stared at her. She unflinchingly stared back. They were at odds. The clock ticked by. Then by some mutual understanding, both of them parted in silence.

* * *

The next day was a Saturday and Harry felt no compulsion to wake up before he absolutely had to. He leisurely got up and walked to the breakfast table which was almost empty. Unlike Hogwarts, there were windows which opened up to the gardens outside. It looked to be a bright sunny day. The sky was a clear blue overhead with a few wisps of clouds visible. Harry helped himself to a large serving of toast and a weird tasty looking French dish. He had just started to eat when he noticed someone sidling up beside him. He turned, thinking it was Hermione. To his surprise it was Aurelié.

'Aurelié,' He said uncertainly, 'Hi'.

'Hi Harry, it's nice to see you so _early_ in the morning.' She said sweetly, far too sweetly, laying unnecessary stress on the word 'early.' Harry frowned a bit.

'Its a Saturday, and besides I don't have any classes.' He said.

'I know you don't. You also didn't have any other appointments you can think of, I guess?' She said casually. But she was anything but it. Her eyes were watching Harry intently.

Then in a flash it all came back to him. Of course, he hadn't kept his word to Aurelié. The dreaded moment had come; and the worst thing was he couldn't even tell her exactly why without delving into topics he'd rather not talk about.

'Look, Aurelie.' He started, avoiding her eyes, 'I'm dreadfully sorry. I couldn't help it.'

 _Oops, wrong choice of words_ , 'I mean it was unavoidable.' _Not much better_ , 'I mean, you know, something came up which… which couldn't be ignored.'

Aurelie kept looking at him intently, her bright blue eyes focused on his face. Harry braced himself for inevitable. But it never came.

'You know what, a girl doesn't like being kept waiting. But somehow, I believe you.' She said after some time.

'You do?' Harry asked startled.

'I do.' She smiled a bit, 'You like Quidditch so much, you wouldn't miss it for just anything.

'I guess.' Harry felt conflicted. He wanted to tell her it wasn't just Quidditch he would do it for. That he felt that keeping his word was important. She was a friend to him now, and he didn't let friends down like that. But he just… couldn't bring himself to say all that.

She stood up and bent her face down a bit in front of his, her black hair falling in strands over her face. Her blue eyes twinkled with mirth.

'I'll forgive you Harry, but only on one condition. Sunday. Eight am. sharp. Don't be late.'

'I'll be there.' Harry said confidently.

As she walked away, only one thing came to his mind. How did she know he liked Quidditch as much as she thought he did?

Harry attended a Charms and Potions class later in the day. Charms was undeniably a much more enjoyable experience in Hogwarts. Potions however, was completely the opposite. He was actually provided with a cauldron and other ingredients. And without Snape's irritable face ready to pounce upon his mistakes, he found himself performing better than he had before. In fact, by the time class was over, he had actually produced a pretty much passable potion which was almost the shade of lilac written in the book. The Potions master, a thin stick figure of a human being, smiled warmly at him as he placed his bottled potion on the table.

Hermione met him outside the library with around four books in her hand. Her hair was even more dishevelled than usual and she kept rubbing her eyes.

'Seriously Hermione, you need to relax for a bit.' He said insistently.

'I try, Harry.' She said, dropping her books into a pouch which seemed to swallow all the books whole.

'No, actually. What you need is a breathe of fresh air.'

'I'm fine, honestly.'

'Well then, I need a breathe of fresh air and you're coming to keep me company.'

Despite Hermione's protests, he dragged her outside to the expansive Beauxbatons lawns. It was dusk and the sky had turned a flaming red and yellow. Numerous other students loitered there, enjoying the evening. The breeze blew lightly and made the place slightly chilly, but still pleasant.

'It actually is pretty nice outside.' Hermione relented. Harry grinned at her.

'Told you.'

They just wandered around for a few minutes before Hermione decided to speak up.

'Remember what happened yesterday? About that weird disarming practice.' She said.

Harry nodded, confused why she wanted to talk about it. It wasn't like he held grudges.

'Yeah so,' She continued, 'I asked around and guess what? This is the first time Mr Durant teaching this. Ever. And he's been here for the last twelve years.'

'Yeah, so what?' Protested Harry. 'Maybe it's something he stumbled upon recently.'

Hermione shook her head.

'That might have been true if yours wasn't the only class he was teaching it to. Coincidence? I think not.'

Harry pondered it for a while but couldn't find any reasonable explanation for it. At least not one other than what Hermione might have been hinting towards. But that couldn't be true, could it?

* * *

The gravel screeched beneath their feet as they walked back to the palace for dinner. The white marble reflected the light off the candles to give it a lustrous sheen. The corridors slowly sloped upwards until they reached the huge dining hall. The inviting smell of freshly prepared food pulled Harry towards it and he had just started filling his plate when a small note floated beside his plate.

 _Come at once. My office.  
_ _Yours flamely,_

 _A.P.W.B.D._

The initials were written with a huge flourish and glowed yellow at random intervals.

'Flamely?' Wondered Harry.

'Just go, Harry. That's Dumbledore. I recognise his initials.' Hermione said.

 _Those are his initials?_ Harry thought to himself as he got up hastily and picked up the note. A thought struck him. Just where was his office? Surely he didn't mean in Hogwarts.

All these thoughts barely passed through his mind before he suddenly found himself sitting in a chair in front of Dumbledore. His surroundings were as eccentric as ever, but with noticeably fewer oddments and gadgets. The surrounding marble walls confirmed he was still in Beauxbatons.

'Ah, Harry.' Started Dumbledore, 'I see you received my little note. Have a seat.'

Harry couldn't find a suitable reply, since he was already sitting. But apparently a reply was not expected.

'You will forgive me, of course, for delaying your dinner.'

Harry mutely nodded, it wasn't as if he had any other choice.

'Good.' Said the old wizard. 'Now, onto business. You see Harry, being a powerful wizard does have its perks but occasionally there are questions that even we can't answer. I need you to answer this question, my boy. Truthfully, for I will know otherwise.'

'Yes sir?' Harry questioningly. He was burning with curiosity. Dumbledore was clearly worried about something.

'It is this. Do you, Harry James Potter, know where it is?'

'Where is what?'

Dumbledore looked at him straight in the eye, almost piercing through them. A sharp pain seared in his brain which subsided as soon as Dumbledore broke eye contact. The great man leaned back a little and took off his half- moon spectacles wearily.  
'Forgive me, Harry. I looked where there was nothing to find. But I feared that maybe you yourself would not remember the knowledge I require. However, you know nothing of which I speak. That much is evident.'

 _'What_ were you looking for? _What_ happened?' Harry asked with some irritation. Dumbledore was always so annoyingly secretive and mysterious.

But this time the Headmaster looked up and answered his question without any riddles.

'The Goblet of Fire is missing.'

 **A/N: Cliffhanger! Anyone surprised? I gave a small hint at the start of the chapter after all. Leave a review, please. It gives me the motivation to write and improve my story.**


	3. Secrets

**A/N: This chapter's been long overdue, but I've finally found some time to write. The last two chapters will be edited soon, since I thought they could be improved; but no changes to the plot, of course. To avoid any confusion: Unlike in canon, the other two schools arrived one month before the Goblet is to be lit on Halloween.**

Harry pulled Hermione to a corner of the hall as soon as dinner was over. A few students in blue milled around, but no one paid them much attention. Hermione crossed her arms in mild annoyance.

'Is now when you finally tell me why Dumbledore called you?' she looked expectantly at Harry.

Harry looked at her sheepishly and pulled out his wand, casting a silencing charm he had learned recently. He put it back in his pocket and nodded.

The words Dumbledore had said echoed through his mind ominously.

'The Goblet of Fire is missing,' he said, 'Dumbledore thought I knew who had stolen it.'

Hermione was instantly indignant on his behalf, 'That's crazy, Harry. You _couldn't_ have possibly. Why would you even want to?'

Harry shrugged, 'He's been a bit more... eccentric, lately.'

He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more, then stopped. Hermione caught the unsure look on his face.

'What's wrong?' she asked gently, 'You know you can trust me, don't you?' She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He looked around, biting his lip. 'I think he might have used Leglimency,' he blurted out, 'He looked straight in my eyes, just as they wrote in the book.'

Hermione let her hand drop down with a shocked look on her face.

Harry didn't give her a chance to speak, 'I know, I know. I must be crazy, but it's just a feeling.'

He looked at her, fearing her response and expecting a rebuke, at the very least. But Hermione was busy rifling in her bag for something. She brought out a green leather-bound book with ' _Secrets of the Mind_ ' written on its cover.

'I got this after you... you know, were reading this sort of stuff.' She switched into full lecture mode, pointing at a paragraph on the page she opened. 'See here: It says _Passive Leglimency can be employed only with direct eye contact, and is almost impossible to detect except by a skilled Occulumens since it does not read thoughts but rather detects strong surface emotions and may be used to detect lies, as in the 1858_ _sitting of...'_ Hermione trailed off and closed the book with a snap.

'It's possible that Dumbledore used this, ' she said, taking out another book on the same topic, 'Read _here_.' She traced her finger down a page, 'It says that Passive Leglimency is _not_ illegal except is very special circumstances... which does not include your situation. It actually says that it is often used to facilitate conversations and prevent misunderstandings.'

She looked at Harry fiercely, 'That's ridiculous, ' she said, closing the book rather viciously, 'Reading minds is _not_ ethical, however little.'

Harry had followed only about half of what she had, but got the gist. 'I guess I'll have to read more about it, then.'

He absently started twirling his wand in his fingers. I wonder who stole the Goblet,' he said nonchalantly.

Hermione looked at him witheringly, 'It's obviously someone who's magically very proficient and has something to gain from sabotaging the tournament. One of the other school's head teachers, I guess. I'd say Karkaroff, he looks as if he would just about die if Krum didn't get in. And he runs a school of dark magic. ' She summed up with a satisfied expression on her face.

Harry looked sceptical, 'He certainly looks like he could. But why would he risk it, I mean? Isn't that unfair to Krum?'

Hermione cancelled the silencing charm Harry had put up. 'I don't think he'll care, somehow,' she said, sighing as if it was useless to argue about it anymore.

'I have to get some homework done, you coming?'

Harry looked at her pensively, 'Sure,' he said finally.

They chatted as they walked about a recent rumour they had heard involving the Beauxbatons Headmistress and Hagrid. She certainly _looked_ big enough to be a half giant. The Beauxbatons rumour mill seemed to be as efficient as the one at Hogwarts, even if it was a bit more difficult to overhear conversations when they were being carried out in French and broken English. It seemed that almost everybody here had at least some proficiency in English, which had been encouraged on account of the foreign students coming to their school that year.

They took special classes in English from first year onwards and all professors were well versed in the language. The library staff evidently hadn't been brought up to those standards, even if they did keep books in several languages. The students, especially those in older years, switched freely between languages and English was highly encouraged in more formal settings.

They were just turning around the corner when someone came running and brushed past Hermione, causing her to drop her hand bag as most of the books spilled out on the spotless floor. The boy immediately stopped and said stiffly, 'Excuse me.' He stepped aside.

Hermione looked at him reassuringly, 'It's fine, you can just help me-'

But the boy was gone before she could complete her sentence, evidently in a great hurry. He hadn't even properly looked in her direction before sauntering away as if nothing had happened.

Hermione looked at the retreating figure in surprise. 'Well!' she said hotly, bending down to pick up her books, 'He didn't even apologise!' she said to Harry who was helping her. Harry suddenly dropped all the books, and stopped Hermione as well. He straightened up and waved his wand, at which the books neatly slid into her bag, which the witch picked up with some embarrassment.

'He should have still helped us,' she muttered, thankful that Harry hadn't commented on her unconscious habit of doing things the muggle way. It was a mark of their friendship that Harry didn't even give her a chance to say something herself, instead replying to her remark about the boy who had bumped into her.

'Yeah!' he said forcefully, 'But he can't help it, can he? I mean, being a slimy git and all.'

Hermione burst into a fit of giggles, it was just so strange hearing him insult someone they didn't even know in a solemn matter-of-fact voice. But it sure felt good, she had to admit. Sadly, this wasn't the only time someone from Beauxbatons' had been less than helpful.  
It had been somewhat of a surprise for _all_ the foreign students - the marked superciliousness in the Beauxbatons older students, which made most of them fairly unapproachable. Cold responses had become somewhat of a routine. Aurelie was a marked exception in this respect, Harry had noted. The reason for their distrust was still unclear, though most people thought it was their pre-tournament competitiveness coming out - they were _very_ competitive.

But they were always polite... mostly, so no one could really complain. Somewhat surprisingly, the Hogwarts students got along well with the Durmstrang ones. Hermione complained about their hospitality - or lack thereof - all the way till they got to their study area near their rooms, with which Harry agreed enthusiastically. The study area was surprisingly spacious, well lit and had a variety of chairs and couches along with a clearing, presumably for practising spells. They quickly found a comfortable place to sit. The floor was also covered with a rug in several shades of blue.

Two hours passed fairly quickly, Harry finding he could now almost keep up with Hermione. At the end of that time, Harry got up hastily. Hermione looked at him curiously.

'You done?' she asked with a faint hint of disapproval. She hadn't paused writing her essay, her eyes were still glued to the parchment.

'Yeah,' he said, trying to flatten his hair but failing miserably, 'I have an appointment with Mr Durant about some Occulumency lessons.'

Hermione raised her eyes, placing down her quill. She looked at Harry with a slightly hurt expression. 'You never told me!'

'Err... yeah, I must have forgot.' The truth was that he was still a bit shy of admitting that he had done something proactive about his studies to Hermione, especially something which he wasn't sure would work out. The feeling was just so foreign to him. It made it seem all more... real somehow, and his worst fear was it might all come crashing down on his head.

'Anyways,' he gave her a small wave, 'I'm getting late.'

He left quickly before being barraged by another volley of questions. Curfew was at 10 pm. here, so he figured he had about an hour to get back. Few students walked about at this time of the night. Most people he saw were either a few couples busy wishing a passionate good night to their significant other or Prefects walking about doing their rounds. He noted with some interest that one of the couples was Aurelie and some guy who looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place. He saw her striking auburn hair disappear into a convenient shadow. He grinned, he would have to remember to tease... err- ask her about that later.

He reached Mr Durant's office in a huff, only a few minutes late. He took a moment to compose himself and took a deep breath, hoping the Professor wasn't staring through the eyehole.

He knocked twice.

'Come in,' a gravelly voice said from inside.

Harry stepped in, only to have his breath taken away by a willowy beauty sitting inside. Her cheeks were flushed, as if she had also arrived in a hurry moments before he did. She sat with her legs crossed in blue schools robes, looking back at Harry. He suddenly felt very self-conscious, and restrained a massive urge to rub something from his face. Her blue eyes seemed to draw him closer. He unconsciously took a couple of steps towards her, but managed to stop and tear his eyes away. He focused on the room instead. It had several pictures adorning its walls, all of them showing powerful spells being cast in the backdrop of huge groups of people. A small fireplace crackled with green flames. There was a single desk, chair and a couple of couches, one of which was occupied by the stunning girl he had been entranced by.

Mr Durant, wearing dark robes, was sitting behind his desk with a small smirk, but also looked rather impressed. He raised his left eyebrow at Harry and pocketed the wand he had been holding.

He stood up and promptly brought his hands together in a slow clap; once... twice... three times, looking straight at Harry.

Harry stood there awkwardly, wondering what he had done to deserve the applause.

Mr Durant motioned with his hand towards the girl, whose face Harry had finally placed. His mind felt a lot clearer now.

'May I present to you, Fleur Delacour, who I'm sure you recognise.'

Fleur smiled at Harry, who managed a small wave back without embarrassing himself this time. If possible, she smiled even more brightly, apparently pleased about something.

'Harry Potter, ' Mr Durant looked at him sharply, 'you have passed my test. Miss Delacour is to be your Occulumency tutor. Please take a seat while we sort out the details.'

Harry sat down gingerly on the indicated couch, glancing at Fleur beside him, her hair tied back in a ponytail.

'What... what test was that, sir?' He furrowed his eyebrows, pretty sure he had only walked inside the room. That didn't seem like a very praiseworthy achievement, somehow.

Mr Durant smiled, leaning against the back of a chair. 'Fleur will be able to explain it better than I can. All you need to know right now is that you have the potential to become a Master Occlumens, and I have the most marvellously suitable teacher for you.' He tilted his head towards Fleur, 'In fact, if my guess is correct, and it usually is, you will get there in less than a year.' His eyebrow twitched, a habit of his which Harry found to quite disconcerting, 'Indeed, yet another feather in the widening cap of the... _Boy-Who-Lived_.'

Harry listened with wide eyes, ignoring the uncalled for jab at the end. His books had said complete mastery took at least twenty years, why was Mr Durant trying to mislead him? He said as much, to which Mr Durant only shook his head.

'Tut-tut, one must not get ahead of oneself. It is mere guesswork on my part.' His tone clearly suggested that it was not 'mere guesswork', but he was unwilling to offer further explanation.

Harry felt infuriated at the condescending tone, but did not press ahead in what he was sure would be futile argument. Aurelie had been right, he didn't really like Mr Durant. He settled for a mild glare.

'My office is to be your classroom for instruction, as I'm sure no other place will be as well suited.' Mr Durant continued, looking into the eyes of both students. He walked to the door and opened it wandlessly. 'There will be no interruptions, as I will not return here this night. Take as much time as you require.'

He stepped outside, and the door had barely closed before it opened again with Mr Durant stepping in with a small smirk, 'I leave it to my most prized student to ensure there will be no... _indiscretions_.' He looked warningly at Harry, 'I have seen you have the willpower to control yourself, but the question is whether you choose to exercise it... or not.' His voice trailed off ominously.

Harry felt like he was playing a Quidditch match without knowing without knowing if was supposed to be flying. Something was missing here. It didn't add up, Mr Durant's tone, Fleur's unexpected presence and his carefully guarded animosity. Harry jumped a bit as the door banged close. He immediately turned to Fleur,

'Fleur, I _swear_ I would never-'

'Relax, Mr Potter,' she interrupted, 'I know you wouldn't.'

Harry was mollified, but felt a bit indignant. She had known him for all of five minutes, and was already assuming things about him. He also felt a bit chastised at her using his surname. But hadn't she, at their very first meeting, told him to call her Fleur?

He decided to follow her lead.

'Thank you, _Miss_ _Delacour,'_ he replied. Ouch, that came out a bit more harsh than he had intended.

Fleur seemed to sense the frostiness in his voice, and bit her lip guiltily. Her expression softened, ' _C'est de ma faute,_ ' _Arry_. It was like... reflexive. I forgot you haven't done this before. It's just that when I had them, my own tutor always used to...' Her voice trailed off in reminiscence.

She shook her head slightly and adopted a serious expression, 'Okay,' she said definitively, 'This is the only time I'm going to tell you this during our... sessions. I will swear an oath to keep your secrets and obliviate those memories of yours which you ask me to.' In response to Harry's questioning glance, she insisted, 'No, it is inevitable I will see some unwanted memories, however much potential you might have. '

She took a deep breathe, 'Formality is the only way to keep things from getting personal, as they very well might. We don't want to break it off before you're done. Occulumency is all about freezing your emotions. Ideally, a complete stranger should be teaching you, someone you have never seen and will never see out of these sessions. But we work with what we have. I...' she hesitated, 'I have some abilities which Monsieur Durant said would be able to help you. You.. you don't know yet?'

The question was more loaded with meaning than she let on. Harry shook his head, hoping she would get to the point. There was a look of faint surprise on her face at his answer, followed by a ghost of a smile.

Harry looked at her questioningly, but her eyes were flickering around the room in some strange uncertainty. She suddenly stood up, somehow making that one action look more graceful than Harry had ever believed possible. A strand of silvery-blonde hair fell over her cheek.

'I...' she muttered, half to herself, taking a few steps shakily 'But I _must_ consult _Maman_ , first,'

She looked apologetically into Harry's green eyes, wringing her hands.

'I'm really sorry, Harry,' she said, not sounding quite as French now she was composed, 'I can't... not today. I'll see you tomorrow, I promise I'll explain then.'

Her anxious face glowed with sincerity. Harry got up as well.

'Of course, Fleur,' he said, trying his best to hide the regret in his voice, 'I look forward to it.'

* * *

Madame Maxime's office was much larger than Dumbledore's back at Hogwarts. It had huge windows looking out to the lawns below and cool air came inside in a gentle breeze. The moon was shining brightly that night. The office had a huge marble table at its centre with chairs all around, decorated with copper and fine carvings. It was on the whole a much more homely and comfortable dwelling, and had several paintings covering its walls. There were old Headteachers and a few people in medieval clothing from a whole assortment of cultures.

A meeting was in session with Maxime at the head of the table, the Headmasters of the other two schools sitting around and Mr Durant pacing around the table glaring at a former student, Pierre, all the while. Pierre, his brown hair parted down the middle stylishly, looked straight ahead unconcernedly at the heated discussion going on around him.

'Madame,' Karkaoff said, trying to hold back his anger, 'Surely that boy Pierre is guilty. He will not swear an oath, he does not offer an explanation for being in the school recently, something which Mr Durant says he should not have done.'

The Beauxbaton's Headmistress was trying very hard to control her own temper as well. That former Death Eater was not only speaking rudely but was also telling her how to run her own school while sitting in her office.

'I do not agree,' she said calmly, 'Pierre is always welcome back here, no matter what Monsieur Durant might say.' She gave her employee a look which promised that they would have words later.

'The duel was inexcusable,' her voice grew harsher, 'Such actions will not be tolerated in these halls. But... I must say that I have known Pierre for a long time, and do not believe he is responsible for such a heinous crime.'

Karkaroff threw up his hands in disgust. Of course that... that _half-giant_ would defend the children of her school.

'The Goblet of Fire must be found,' he said insistently as he could, 'We must take extreme measures. For all we know, someone might have imperiused Pierre and obliviated him later.'

'Then we must find the person who did that to him.' Maxime's voice was as hard as steel. It was clear she would not force her former student to do something he was not willing to do voluntarily.

'That gets us nowhere!' Karkaroff pointed out.

Dumbledore had been watching as silently as Pierre till then. He finally decided it was the time to interrupt.

'May I suggest a compromise?' he said in a grandfatherly tone, and continued without pausing, 'Madame, have Pierre stay with us in the school till the Goblet is found. He is currently out of a job, I gather. You could temporarily hire him as a... well, I'm sure you'll think of something.' Dumbledore smiled serenely around the table with a very satisfied look on his face.

Madame Maxime looked thoughtful, 'That is agreeable. I suppose it could be arranged. Pierre?' She looked at the boy who was stroking his small beard in contemplation. He grunted out a yes. Good jobs were hard to find these days.

Durant looked like he wanted to object; but settled for a scowl and a few choice words, 'I've heard the Western Greenhouses are in desperate need of a dedicated caretaker.' It was clear by his tone he considered it the worst sort of job available in the school. Not many would object, since it was the greenhouse with the poisonous and carnivorous plants after all. They were positively _scary._

Pierre didn't dare to contradict him. Thankfully, there was no more discussion on that topic.

'And what of the Goblet-' Karkaroff started heatedly, was he the _only_ one here interested in bringing it back?!

Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth taken from somewhere deep in his robes.

'Yes, the Goblet,' he said, 'Not to worry. I am sure the school has wards which prevent it being taken outside the school during the duration of the tournament?'

Madame Maxime nodded, 'It is still inside.'

Dumbledore stood up, holding out his hand in the air. A red phoenix flashed on top with a brilliant flash of light and flames. His soothing cry filled the office.

'Fawkes will help me find it - such an artefact cannot be concealed if I manage to get close enough.' Dumbledore glanced around the table, 'I am sure you are more than capable of catching the perpetrator on your own.'

He smiled a bit as if he had remembered some private joke and suddenly flashed away leaving a very irate Headmaster Karkaroff and surprised Headmistress Maxime. Karkaroff did not hide his sense of injustice.

'He could have said this before we started the meeting!' he cried out, 'Who does he think he is?'

Behind him, the Defence professor suddenly sank down on one of the various seats available in an exaggerated motion, his head in his hands.

Madame Maxime did not lose her calm, 'Headmaster, I believe it is not proper to address the Chief Warlock of the ICW in this fashion. As for this meeting, its purpose was to find the perpetrator, not the Goblet.'

'But the thief surely has the Goblet!' Karkaroff objected, 'The point is moot.'

Durant scoffed, he was tired of the meeting as well, 'Surely the thief is no fool to keep the Goblet with him, especially inside the school. It is not like Hogwarts - there are not many places to hide here. It is a school, not a fortress or castle or a sanctum for teaching... _unorthodox_ magic.'

Karakaroff stood up in anger at the poorly concealed slight at his school, creases appearing in his white fur coat as they did on his face.

'I am sure your school staff is competent enough to catch the perpetrator by itself. I must leave.' he said.

He bowed stiffly and a strange gust of wind slammed the door shut behind him. Durant let out a long breathe and stretched his legs on the table, giving a meaningful glance to his Headmistress.

'Henri, please remember to be civil around important people.' Maxime reprimanded, 'It would serve you well.'

Monsieur Durant's eyebrow twitched once again. ' _Important.._.' he said with a sour look on his face, 'The word infuriates me. People should be respected for themselves than their achievements or positions. Power only corrupts. Why, just look at-'

'Yes, Henri,' Maxime interrupted with a sigh, 'I know your views on this topic. I wish you would listen to me, though.'

'Have Pierre arrested. Then we'll talk. He is a dangerous influence on those around-'

'Monsieur Durant...' Maxime interrupted warningly, glancing at Pierre who was listening to the conversation with an interested look on his face.

'Fine.'

Durant suddenly fired a harmless jinx with a vindictive look on his face at the boy across the table, who deflected it without even looking properly. Maxime looked at the pair in resignation. Their animosity was no secret to her and even the large majority of the student population. Pierre would often visit his old school to look up teachers and just visit the classrooms - it was unusual but Madame Maxime saw no harm in it. She even found it somewhat endearing. An incident in Pierre's seventh year had somehow made the defence professor deeply distrustful of the boy, and it would often turn into full blown arguments. The duel was an escalation which nobody had foreseen, and which she was determined to prevent the next time around.

It was positively childish how the two behaved sometimes, she thought, looking at them through the corner of her eye exchanging tickling and hair growing jinxes in the most casual fashion. She was sure if she hadn't been there, there would have been another duel.

She would have to find some way to separate them while they were both here, somehow.

* * *

Harry trudged back to his living quarters, which were inconveniently on the other side of the building, the North Wing to be exact. His mind was still on his conversation with Fleur, wondering if he had done something wrong. She had said she would talk to him the next day, but there was still an odd feeling of rejection. He had been looking forward immensely to starting his Occulumency lessons. While the choice of tutor was a bit of a surprise - he had known it would probably be a seventh year but he hadn't expected it to be this particular one - Mr Durant had said she was somehow particularly well suited to teaching him. The matter of him having a lot of potential was surprising, to say the least. He had tried doing the exercises in the book but he hadn't found himself suddenly being able to learn everything with a lot of ease. In fact, he was struggling to clear his mind of any thoughts for more than a few seconds.

Then there was Fleur herself. He had never had his feelings change as quickly as they did around her. One moment, he felt like he would travel to the moon to make her happy and the next moment he felt the usual feeling of attraction he felt towards any other pretty girl, though she was prettier than most, if not any girl he had seen. She had come across as a bit arrogant and cold to him initially, but he could tell she was hiding something. It was reminiscent of the way he acted himself sometimes, preferring to keep to himself.

Aurelie had also mentioned people didn't usually like her, and she herself was one of the few friends Fleur had. He could tell she was hiding something during that conversation, but when he asked she had said it wasn't something she was supposed to talk about. He hadn't pressed further, realising it was something she _really_ didn't want to talk about.

He walked inside the Hogwarts living quarters and found Hermione still on the couch with a mass of parchments surrounding her. A few older students were also sitting around, most of them in a similar state of deep thought. He nodded at Cedric, a friendly Hufflepuff he had befriended on the ride here. Draco was conspicuously absent, probably gone to sleep.

'Hey Hermione,' said Harry, sitting beside her.

Hermione motioned for him to remain quiet and took her time to finish the page she had been reading. She neatly bookmarked it and turned to Harry with an interested smile.

'How was it?' she asked but before Harry could answer Cedric approached the duo.

He looked towards Harry, 'Listen,' he said, 'you need to hear this.' He looked apologetically at Hermione, 'It'll only take a minute.'

He made a come-over-here indication with one of his hands as Harry jumped up in curiosity. There could be only one reason for Cedric to call him. They had talked a few days back. Harry had been curious about Mr Durant's lesson with disarming spells and he had asked around - Cedric had been one of the few people to take an actual interest. He seemed to be quite smart, even for a seventh year.

Cedric lead him to the far wall which had the painting of an earl or duke from the seventeenth century, complete with a fancy red suit with golden buttons and what looked suspiciously like a wig. He was busy fiddling with his eyeglass.

'Lord Stanley,' Cedric said formally. The Lord continued glancing through his eyepiece, changing his eye this time.

Cedric looked at him blankly for a moment before sighing, 'Lord Stanley the _Brave,_ ' he tried.

The painting of Lord Stanley cleared his throat and said, 'Approach, young man, and state your concerns.'

Harry restrained the urge to roll his eyes.

'You had just told me about how letting disarming spells hit you were used in your time...' Cedric said encouragingly.

Lord Stanley gave him a pleased smirk, 'Ahem, of course. It was used mainly to test a wizard's affinity towards magic. It may also increase resistance to the particular spell, but that was not its main function.'

Harry took a moment to process the information. It wasn't at odds with what Mr Durant had said, but the part about the test wasn't something he had heard before.

'Are you _absolutely_ sure?' Harry asked. Better being safe than risking a lot of effort based on the meaningless drivel of a senile painting.

The painting gave an angry _Harrumph_ , his face reddening slightly. 'My word is my bond, young man. I speak the truth, and nothing but the truth.' he said testily.

Harry paused, considering how to continue. 'How is it a test, exactly?' he said eventually. He had to know more to convince himself that there was some merit to the painting's words.

Lord Stanley put a finger on his chin, 'I couldn't say. Probably something to do with how long you hold it. But at a small price, I would be willing-'

Cedric suddenly dragged Harry away from the painting, ignoring its shouts of protest in which the words ' _Discount_ ' were repeated a very detrimental number of times.

'I talked to it earlier,' the brown eyed Hufflepuff said, 'Dumb as a doornail, of course. But what he said should be reliable. I haven't found any books on the topic either, and the other students don't know anything about it either. I had to search through quite a few paintings before I found this one. He loves galleons - kept asking for them and got angrier when I couldn't give them to him.'

Cedric gave a short chuckle, looking expectantly at the boy who had first brought his attention to this fascinating project of Mr Durant.

Harry thanked Cedric first of all, marvelling at his efficiency. It couldn't have been a couple of days since he asked him! But he still wasn't sure he could trust the painting, despite what Cedric assurances.

'Why do you think Mr Durant wanted to test us?' he said speculatively.

Cedric shrugged, 'I dunno. Just like any other exam, I suppose. I'll see if I can get hold of any other painting,' he said. Harry wasn't completely satisfied by this explanation but there nothing else he could think of either. Cedric wished him a cheery goodnight as he entered his room while Harry again took a seat beside Hermione. He felt tired and a strange feeling of dread overcame him at the prospect of reliving the events in Mr Durant's office. It was all so... confusing. But Hermione wouldn't let him go without saying something, judging from the way she had neatly put all her work inside her bag and was perched on the edge of the couch with a predatory glint in her eyes.

'Merlin,' Harry started enthusiastically, 'you won't believe who I saw on the way to Mr Durant's office...'

 **A/N: Thanks for all the favourites/follows/reviews and of course for reading this story!** **I hope to get another chapter in soon.** **Let me know what you think by leaving a review.**


	4. Assemblage

**A/N: For this chapter, I've departed from my usual style. I've taken the viewpoints of several characters in the space of about a week around the lighting of the Goblet. This is presented roughly in a chronological order, so I hope it's easy to understand. While I could have done this in several chapters, I thought this was a better way to express the plot.**

 _Delight: Harry Potter_

 _October 29, 1994_

The sun was just setting when Aurelie led Harry to the Quidditch pitch. The sky was aglow with an orange flame which slowly disappeared into the black expanse of the night sky. A bright smile was on her face as she showed him that there were not one, but _two_ pitches - one for practice and one for matches which was surrounded by stands.

A friendly match was ongoing beside them, and the practice pitch was empty. Harry gingerly stepped onto the freshly mowed grass, looking around in wonder at the high goalposts and imagining himself playing in the background of the towering mountains in the distance. He could almost feel the cool air rushing past his face. He mounted his Firebolt, looking at Aurelie beside him. Her blue eyes sparkled in contentment.

'You want to join me?' he asked, a bit hesitant. It would be rude to leave her alone on the ground.

She shrugged, 'Why not?'

She sat behind Harry and put her arms tightly around his waist as he pushed off smoothly. It was almost exactly as he had imagined it to be, except for the feeling of Aurelie pressed behind him. He was a bit stiff initially, but soon relaxed into the familiar feeling of flying. The summer was far behind him, a distant memory for drearier times. He was in his element in the sky. He casually did a few loop-de-loops in quick succession followed by accelerating slowly in case Aurelie wasn't used to flying. But he quickly realised slow just wasn't his thing.

'Do you mind if I try something a bit dangerous?' he asked her, slowing down a bit, his head turned sideways.

Aurelie spoke close to his ear, 'I _love_ dangerous.'

Harry felt shivers creep down his spine as he sped up. His mind started to wander, but he squashed the misguided thoughts without mercy. She was just a _friend_ , someone he liked spending time with. He didn't want to lose her over anything stupid.

'You might want to hang on,' he said. Aurelie happily obliged, her hair tickling Harry's neck. Harry winced, he really should have thought it through before asking her to join him.

He did a few complicated twists and turns, practising the manoeuvres at high speed such as he might while catching a snitch. He executed a few daring corkscrews and even the odd roll. Emboldened by his success and lack of any protest from Aurelie, he decided to try something he had seen Krum executing at the World Cup. He shot like an arrow towards the ground, eliciting a small terrified ' _Eep_ ' from Aurelie before he pulled up at almost the very last moment, his heart in his mouth. The grass rippled as he turned back up a few feet above it. He would have liked to have gone further down, but Aurelie's presence made him a bit more cautious than usual. He pulled up high into the sky, opting for a lazy pace as he calmed down.

Aurelie was almost giddy with excitement, 'That was a perfectly executed Wronski Feint!'

Harry was glad she couldn't see the blush that crept across his face.

'You know what it's called?' he asked her. He hadn't pegged her for a Quidditch fan.

Aurelie huffed. 'Everybody knows that!'

They flew around in silence for a few more minutes before Harry finally landed with a grin. It had been so long since he had last flown.

Aurelie brought out her wand and murmured a spell which Harry judged to be ' _Accio_ ' going by its wand movements.

'You never told me you're dating,' he said, faux-casually, starting to walk across the field to the stone pathway running to the palace.

Aurelie didn't miss a beat, 'I'm not,' she said, in the same tone.

Harry glanced at her walking innocently beside him, she didn't seem to be lying. He didn't want to be intrusive, but he was just concerned.

'I saw you,' he said seriously, 'on Saturday night with some boy in the corridor. It's fine if you don't want to talk about it.'

Aurelie rolled her eyes, 'That was a single kiss,' she said, 'doesn't mean we're dating.'

'Oh, err...' Harry didn't quite know what to say after that.

'It was Pierre,' she said after a while, 'if you want to know. He was visiting.'

Harry sensed there was some history between them from the way she spoke his name, but he assumed if she wanted she could tell him herself. He looked and saw a broom come whizzing towards them, slowing down as it approached and was caught deftly by Aurelie.

'I wanted to compare brooms,' she said, handing him her broom and taking his without warning. He looked at her broom in mild surprise, it was a _Stardust 700_ , leading competitor of the _Firebolt_ and just as expensive. Its bristles were thinner, but the broom was in much better condition than his. It was also a bit smaller, but he knew from the articles he had read that its speed had nothing on the Firebolt. It was built mainly for better manoeuvrability and had fairly good acceleration.

'I'm the seeker on our team, you know,' she mentioned, missing the surprised look Harry gave her.

'I'm the seeker for Gryffindor, too,' he said with a smile. Aurelie whirled about in astonishment and they spoke about it excitedly.

They exchanged brooms once more and Aurelie continued in a similar strain throughout the rest of the walk back. It was only after she said goodbye that Harry realised she could have easily summoned her broom earlier, instead of sharing his.

It had probably just slipped her mind, right?

* * *

 _Disbelief: Albus too-many-middle-names Dumbledore_

 _October 29, 1994_

Dumbledore had spent already countless hours of scouring the school for the Goblet. He had visited most of the places twice or thrice and some even four times. Only one conclusion seemed possible now - Madame Maxime had stolen the Goblet herself to sabotage the tournament, and was lying about the silent wards. A favourite quote of Dumbledore's was by a very famous muggle - " _When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth._ " It seemed applicable in his case, since there was no other solution that was possible. He frowned deeply as he walked to his office, when a sudden thought struck him.

Unless, unless... but the thief would never dare, would he? He _wouldn't_. But it was not the case, Dumbledore found with a deep sigh as he turned the corner. It was the only place he hadn't checked yet. And there was the cup, lying in plain in sight in front of his office door. Such cheek! So his thief had a sense of humour then? It was reckless, but he apparently got away with it. Not for long, if Dumbledore could help it.

He picked up the Goblet of Fire with a resigned look on his face as he took it inside his office. He would keep it with himself until it was lit the next day, and check for any hint of damage in the meanwhile.

A bit of personal research into its workings wouldn't hurt either.

* * *

 _Renewed Purpose: Draco Malfoy_

 _October 22, 1994_

Draco Malfoy had found the last couple of weeks to be rather dull compared to Hogwarts. There were no ghosts, no eccentric DADA professors(although Durant could come close if he gave it a try), no devotion of his loyal Slytherin 'friends' and even irritating Potter - a usually dependable pastime - was proving to be difficult. With Weasley beside him, it was often easy to goad that red-headed idiot into getting angry, at which point Potter would rush to his defence. Nowadays, Potter would simply ignore him and leave him to his own devices.

Almost everyone left him to his own devices, which suited him just fine. Nothing would deter him from his goal of entering the Triwizard Tournament as Champion and bringing _even_ more fame to the Malfoy name. He also had other work to do - important work - which had been entrusted to him by his father, but he was also fully confident of coming out on top on both ends. He _was_ a Malfoy, after all.

Cassius Warrington, a seventh year Slytherin who had been a part of the Hogwarts entourage, had taken Malfoy under his wing, and was teaching him to be a true Slytherin. Of course, it didn't come without a certain motivation of his own. He had started by telling Malfoy that it required a favourable alliance between the two families, along with reasonable aid when required. Loosely translated, I'll help you in exchange for gold.

Malfoy had agreed with the full knowledge that he could break off the arrangement as he desired, since he _was_ the one holding the purse strings.

But Warrington had been surprisingly useful. His first lesson had been quite informative:

It had been held in the dark of the night inside Warrington's enlarged room in the light from the tip of their two wands.

'So _Draco_ ,' Malfoy had given him a sharp look at this, but Warrington had smiled condescendingly, 'If I'm to teach you anything useful,' he had said, 'I'll call you Draco and you must refer to me as Mr Warrington or Sir.'

Before Malfoy could respond, he continued, 'Now. Your first lesson. What is the first thing you think of when you look at someone?' he asked in a theatrical manner.

Draco's features arranged themselves into a thoughtful expression, 'Whether they're pureblood, half-blood or mud blood,' he said finally, it was the obvious answer, but it was also probably the right one.

'No,' Warrington raised a finger slowly, shaking his head disappointedly.

'The first thing you _should_ think is...' he paused for dramatic effect and said in a stage whisper, 'You must guess what they think they want _you_ to give to them, and how to make them _think_ you gave it to them, while at the same making them give _you_ something that _you_ want in return, but _they_ think you actually don't.'

Malfoy blinked three times. That was the seventh most complicated sentence he had ever heard. Warrington had to repeat the sentence two more times before Draco _finally_ got it, as a devious smile came on his face. He liked the direction this was going in. It was what his father always did, in a nutshell, except that he would probably kill the person he tricked to hide any evidence.

When he mentioned this, only a wide grin spread across Warrington's face which eerily didn't reach his eyes.

' _Ah_ , but you see,' he said as if he was imparting the lost wisdom of the ages, 'a _true_ Slytherin would never have to kill the person he tricked, since said person would _never_ find out they were tricked.'

At Draco slight anger at his suggestion that his father was not a true Slytherin, Warrington amended his statement by conceding it was always better to be sure, _just in case_ you missed something; a dead man can't talk.

Draco almost laughed evilly in glee. Warrington had said these were just the basics, just wait till he got to the _real_ part. No one could stop him now!

* * *

 _Interlude: Hagrid_

 _November 6, 1994_

Hagrid whistled a merry tune, tending to the majestic Abraxans he had found in the Beauxbatons stables. The Abraxans resembled Palomino horses with the exception of humongous wings sprouting out of their sides. They had a beautiful white coat of soft hair, and their powerful legs stomped and fretted on the ground. Hagrid walked up to one of them, heaving a barrel of single malt whiskey as if it was made of feather. He placed it down in front of one of the winged horses, and comfortingly patted its fur. The Abraxan snorted with delight, and took a long swig of its drink of choice.

'Yer a girl, aren't you?' Hagrid said, in what he considered a soothing voice.

The Abraxan dipped its head forwards, taking another drink from the barrel and almost emptied it. She rustled the straw near her, and dropped down with her legs folded. She spread her great wings wide and looked expectantly towards Hagrid.

Hagrid looked as if Christmas had come early.

'Ye want me to ride yeh? Is tha' what yer sayin'?' The Abraxans reminded him of his beloved Thestrals back at Hogwarts. He hoped Miss Kettleburn was taking good care of them. He patted the Abraxas' fur fondly.

'I'll call you Buttercup, if that's fine with you?'

A small whiny and the whiskey was over in a matter of seconds. Hagrid took that as acquiescence.

The stallion suddenly snorted loudly, a small cloud of air coming from her nostrils. She sounded a bit angry, her waving tail catching Hagrid in his ribs. He wasn't even phased except for a concerned expression coming on his face. He sighed in resignation.

'A'right, Buttercup' Hagrid said, If yer insistin'

He climbed up on the Abraxas, which stood up firmly. Her great strength allowed her to lift someone like Hagrid easily. She stomped her feet once, trotted a few steps out of the stables and took off into the air with a huge flap of her wings. Her rippling tendons and muscles strained as she flew higher into the air with powerful flaps.

Hagrid looked around, taking in the breathtaking scenery of towering snow capped mountains and forests up its slopes. A faint sound of trickling rivulets could be heard and the school was like a small white dot from their height. The clouds were coming closer and closer. Hagrid huffed, unimpressed, and continued patting the great steed. He was starting to feel a bit dizzy, but he had faith in the Abraxas. How could such a magnificent creature have anything other than the purest intentions?

A little while later, he was snoring, nestled comfortably and safely between the two wings.

Buttercup flew happily in the endless blue sky, ecstatic with freedom after being locked up for so long.

* * *

 _Disquiet: Fleur Delacour_

 _October 28, 1994_

He met Fleur in the library. She was sitting cross legged in a corner surrounded by books, the end of her tongue just about visible in a picture of concentration. Harry approached her apprehensively.

'Fleur...' he said hesitantly, 'Have you decided?'

A book fell off the surprised girl's lap. She looked at him with an almost scared expression. She quickly schooled her features.

'No, not yet.' She got up, her blue skirt falling around her knees. She gave him a weak smile.

'Wait here,' she said, and vanished around a bookshelf. She came back with a single book in her hands and thrust it into his hands. Harry wondered why she gave him a book. The musty air made it seem as if there was nothing written on the cover. On a closer look, there _was_ actually nothing written on the red leather, except for a fancy golden " _D"_ in the bottom corner.

'Read the first chapter,' she said in a businesslike fashion, 'Do the exercises. You won't need my help for them.'

Harry looked at the book and back at Fleur with a serious look, 'You could just say no,' he said quietly. _I'm used to it_ , he added inside his mind. He'd learn the whole damn thing by himself if he had to.

Fleur shook her head, 'It's not that,' she said gently, 'I just need... some more time.'

'You like Quidditch, right?' Her voice had the quality of clear glass.

'Yeah,' said Harry, 'How do you know that?'

Fleur had the decency to blush. 'Aurelie…' she said as if that explained everything, 'she likes to talk… a lot, you know?'

Harry nodded. He knew it only too well. She didn't mean anything by it, it was just her nature to talk about anything which caught her fancy and Harry - he had realised too late - was one of those on her list.

'So,' Fleur continued, 'think of this book as learning to fly. I can't teach you to play Quidditch before you can fly.'

Harry's piercing green eyes seemed to gaze into her very soul before breaking away. There was no hint of deception in her, only honesty and deadly earnestness. It was all so frustrating, why was she putting off a simple lesson? He had already done the basics... well most of it.

Harry turned around in deep contemplation, the seemingly unnecessary book just added to the air of mystery hanging about the strange girl. There was always an air of coldness around whenever he saw her in the school. She rarely talked to anyone except Aurelie, and then there was that 'ability' which no one was willing to elaborate on. Her beauty was undeniable, but it was only part of her, something which a lot of other boys he talked to failed to understand. He struggled to find something under it, but a blanket of ice was draped around her, melting only to harden again. He saw shades of himself reflected in it, but they were only shades, vanishing when he tried to throw a bit of light on them.

* * *

 _Lost and Found: The Goblet of Fire_

 _October 30, 1994_

The Goblet of Fire shone brightly with its blue and yellow flames inside Madam Maxime's office. They had chosen not to light it in front of the school for fear of foul play. They still hadn't figured out what had been done to it, so the precautions were necessary. Madam Maxime let out a sigh of relief.

'It seems to be fine,' she said.

But Dumbledore's eyes were no longer twinkling, 'No,' he said gravely, tracing his wand around the edge, 'I can feel it now. It has been tainted.'

Karkaroff raised an eyebrow,' Is it cursed?' He experimentally poked it with his wand.

'No,' said Dumbledore, 'It is in perfect functioning condition for the tournament.' He sighed, pacing the office in deep thought. He finally spoke out in a tone of deep worry, 'It has been used for some ritual... probably Dark. I cannot be sure of what it was, but...' he closed his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows.

'There is no way out,' he said finally, 'the Goblet has been lit. The tournament must take place.'

Madame Maxime was enraged, 'It is not safe!' she exclaimed. A French Ministry official, who had been standing beside watching the whole proceedings, coughed slightly to get her attention.

'I'm afraid the Chief Warlock is correct, Madame,' he said in a monotonous voice, 'Our hands are tied, the tournament must take place, else we risk losing the magic of all the tournament officials involved.' He tightened his jaw, 'Which includes present company.'

Karkaroff was back to his grumpy self, 'Dumbledore said it's in proper condition for the tournament. It doesn't matter if some nutter tried to use it for a dark ritual.' He gave a short laugh, 'he probably failed. This is no mere artefact to be used lightly. It takes great power to bend it to one's will.'

Dumbledore said nothing and the Beauxbatons Headmistress grudgingly agreed.

The Goblet of Fire was set on a high pedestal in the Entrance Hall surrounded by an age line, allowing only those aged seventeen and above to cross it. The day was October 30, 1994.

Madame Maxime had made an impassioned speech before allowing students to give their names.

'Glory awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Cup, but beware, for it would be both treacherous and demanding. Three tasks must one conquer to claim the prize. Three tasks which will challenge your ingenuity, magical prowess, strength of mind and character. Only the worthiest from each school will be chosen. Give your names wisely, for it is a binding magical contract which will require you to compete or lose your magic. I have presented the stakes, the choice is now yours. _Commencez_!'

She threw her hands up as the flames flew higher in the air as the first chit cast burnt into ashes. All throughout the day, students from the three schools eagerly dropped their names into the flames. It was the general consensus in Hogwarts that either Cedric Diggory or Angelina Johnson would be chosen as the champion. Harry and Hermione were both privately rooting for Angelina, since she was also in Gryffindor.

She had been very nervous before submitting her name and it was only the encouragement from her two housemates that she had done so with a confident smile on her face. Hermione had tried to reason with her for half an hour before Harry had suddenly interrupted her with a determined look on his face and a couple of words.

'We're Gryffindors,' he had said meaningfully, causing Angelina's face to become bright red before she kissed Harry on the cheek as thanks. She soon put her name in. One of the headteachers was always near the Goblet in case something went wrong. But it all went smoothly.

The next day was Halloween, a day on which Harry didn't even feel like getting out of his bed. Everybody celebrated this day, but to him it was just the day his parents died. It was like dragging a shard of glass across a fresh wound. He would have just liked one year when he could just be on his own, without the festivity, and with his thoughts. He just felt that maybe the Wizarding World could honour their sacrifice just once, but he knew that was never going to happen.

Harry had thrown himself into Occlumency and it had taken him just a couple of late nights to get through the initial exercises. They were much easier than the ones he had seen in the other book and had a much more cohesive structure. He had once again approached Fleur, but she had been too excited and distracted last night to make any headway with their Occlumency lessons, so they had called it off until the next day. Harry truly believed she would be chosen as Champion - that duel with Mr Durant had been nothing short of a sublime mixture of elegance and skill - so another day's delay seemed highly likely.

Finally the time for the Goblet to choose the Champions came, and all the students gathered in the Entrance Hall silently. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and nervousness, and they all held their breaths as Madame Maxime stood on the platform with the Goblet.

Harry looked around and somehow caught Fleur's eye from the sea of blue. He mouthed 'Good Luck' to her to which she just smiled. Aurelie, standing beside her nudged her lightly, and received a stern glare from Fleur in response.

The first chit came flying out of the Goblet which Maxime caught deftly with her rather thick fingers.

'The Champion from Durmstrang is... _Victor Krum!_ '

His school clapped loudly and he received several pats on the back and congratulations. Krum simply walked ahead with a bored face to a Tournament official who led him somewhere away along the corridors. It was almost as if he knew he would be chosen. His confidence seemed somewhat unreal. The Goblet politely waited till the applause died down.

Another chit flew out in a burst of blue flames.

'The Champion from Hogwarts is... _Cassius Warrington!'_

A somewhat muted applause came from the Hogwarts continent, the only enthusiastic one came from the few Slytherins present. Cassius himself looked a little surprised, but quickly asserted his composure as he was led away.

'The Champion from Beauxbatons is... _Fleur Delacour_!'

The applause and shouts were almost deafening as Fleur serenely walked towards the platform. There were even few hoots. Several boys became glassy eyed as they watched her walk, her long hair almost floating behind her. She first went and embraced her Headmistress, before she was guided away.

Suddenly another piece of paper flew out. Madame Maxime caught it, somewhat surprised. She read it.

' _Harry Potter_ ,' she said and let the paper drop from her hands, _'Hein?!'_ she muttered in a puzzled tone, almost to herself.

Dumbledore managed to grab the paper without seeming as if he was being rude.

'It says Harry Potter,' he said thoughtfully, though his voice carried across the hall.

'Mr Potter,' he said a bit more loudly, 'please follow me.'

Harry mutely set off after Dumbledore with a reassuring look from Hermione. The students parted as he walked to the far end of the hall to the corridor through which all the other Champions had gone.

Whispers broke out as soon as he left, which left an uncomfortable prickly feeling in his back. But it was an overwhelming feeling of dread, of being surrounded by a mire on all sides which overcame him. He was being suffocated, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Dumbledore led him to Madame Maxime's office, and a couple of more tournament officials followed hurriedly. Soon the Headteachers, officials and Mr Durant were there along with him.

'What is 'E doing 'ere?' Fleur spoke first of all, not caring about her accent.

Ludo Bagman, as one of the judges back in Britain along with Mr Crouch had declined to step down from their original post but had come to France via Portkey to fulfil their obligations. Ludo cleared his throat as if he was about to start commentary for a Quidditch match.

'Ladies and Gentleman,' he said with a spark in his eyes, 'Please welcome Harry Potter, the fourth Triwizard Tournament, as incredible as it seems.'

There were sounds of disbelief from around the table. Fleur was looking at Harry with a betrayed look on her face. Harry was deeply hurt. She had at least some idea of what he was like, for Merlin's sake! She of all people should have known he didn't do it.

'Surely not!' Maxime intoned.

Mr Crouch turned to her, 'The Tournament rules clearly state the names of those who come out of the Goblet must compete.'

'I vill not consent to this,' Krum said with a rare look of annoyance, 'Hogwarts cannot have two champions.'

'I agree,' said Karkaroff, putting a hand on Krum's shoulder, 'It is unfair to other schools. The boy must have tricked the Goblet.'

'He should be disqualified,' boomed Maxime.

Dumbledore sighed and looked straight at Harry, his eyes twinkling, 'Did you put your name in the Goblet, Harry? Or ask an older student to do so on your behalf?'

Harry turned his eyes away in disbelief and anger, 'No, sir!' he said forcefully, 'I don't want to participate.'

'I believe you,' said Dumbledore after a few moments, he had seen just enough to be sure.

'He is clearly lying!' Karkaroff protested.

'Karkaroff!' Dumbledore looked at him meaningfully, 'There could be other... circumstances which lead to this.'

The presence of the two officials stopped Karkaroff from protesting. The Goblet had been stolen. What if _this_ had been the reason? What if the dark ritual had tricked the Goblet into accepting Harry's name? Everybody knew the tournament was dangerous, the question was,

'Who wants Harry Potter dead?' Karkaroff said out loud. Bagman started protesting instantly saying they had taken painstaking measures to ensure the tournament would be safe and strictly non-lethal. But the seed of doubt had been planted. However, the other champions were more skeptical than anything.

Maxime looked thoughtful as well. This was a discussion for another time. Mr Durant spoke up for the first time,

'Thank you, gentlemen,' he looked pointedly at the Crouch, 'Your instructions?'

'Ah, the first task,' said Crouch, relieved the protests had died down, 'It will test your skill in front of the unknown. The date is November 24. I wish you all the best of luck.'

He quickly left with Bagman, not wanting to get into an argument with the clearly incensed Headteachers. But rules were rules, and they must be upheld as such. They would surely come to understand in time.

The Champions were dismissed unceremoniously. It was time for another serious discussion. Dumbledore pulled Harry aside before he went,

'I have faith in you, my boy. I only ask that you too have faith in yourself.'

Harry knew Dumbledore was hiding something, but didn't question it. His mind was in a whirl, wondering how he would explain it to his friends. He really needed to write Ron a letter.

It was Halloween. Always Halloween. Every single year something had to happen on Halloween. Just _what_ exactly _was_ it about Halloweens?

* * *

 _Determination: Hermione Granger_

 _November 2, 1994_

Arithmancy had been one of Hermione's favourite subjects back at Hogwarts. She had been distraught to hear that it was not a subject taught at Beauxbatons. However, there was a similar field which was taught. Hermione had asked if it was similar to what had been taught at Hogwarts.

'Nonsense!' The stern eyed mistress had said in disgust. She looked rather a lot like a grandmother. Hermione half expected her to offer tea and biscuits. She sat rather primly in her office chair. There was no desk in front of her. She had wrinkles covering her face and leaned on a stick as she sat. Her frizzled hair was entirely white and her grey Dragon hide cloak stared at Hermione sternly..

The Hogwarts student politely waited for Mrs Scalar to continue. She did not disappoint.

'It is blasphemy, pure blasphemy, what they teach at Hogwarts!' she exclaimed, vibrating a little in anger. Hermione eyed her stick worriedly.

'Yes?' the expectant girl said politely.

Mrs Scalar's eyes flamed. 'What you have learned till now, dear girl, is only a convoluted branch of _Arithmancy_ better known as _Numerology_.' Her voice went shrill at the end. There were some strong feelings behind her words.

'I teach _Arxmancy_ ,' she continued, standing up and tapped her stick firmly on the ground. A blue glow formed a cylinder around Hermione and vanished after a few moments. Hermione stood still in amazement. _Wordless, wandless magic? Was this a dream?_

The old woman suddenly took out her wand and chanted, ' _Stupefy_!'

The red beam flew straight towards Hermione and unexpectedly veered off a few inches from her skin and struck another corner of the room.

Hermione looked at it in shock, half ashamed at being caught off guard like that. She experimentally pushed forwards with her hands, expecting resistance, but stumbled a few steps ahead in surprise.

She stared with wonder at the old woman who was cackling in delight.

'Ever seen something like that, girl?' Her eyes were scrunched up in amusement, 'Septima's a good witch, but _Arxmancy_ isn't quite her field of expertise.'

'You... you know Professor Vector?' Hermione asked.

'Know her? HA!' Mrs Scalar wheezed, 'I taught her! She's my niece, for Merlin's sake. But she never did take to _Arxmancy_ , I never found out why. She left my tutelage at sixteen to make her own path, and...' her voice trailed off with a tinge of sadness, 'she's never talked to me since.'

The words hung in the air as Mrs Scalar was lost in thought. Hermione felt very awkward standing there - she was intruding on something personal and it didn't feel right. There _was_ a hint of a British accent to Mrs Scalar's voice, and something in her face resembled Professor Vector. She half thought she should offer the old woman a tissue, but Mrs Scalar was soon back to her usual self.

' _Arxmancy_ is all about focusing your mind,' she said, 'None of that foolish wand waving that Septima was so fond of. It's purpose is to protect, you know? Wards, shields, everlasting protective enchantments. All it does is take the ambient magic in an area and focus it in a particular place. It doesn't use any of your own magic, hence why you don't need a wand. A wand, as you know, is simply a conduit which transmits magic from your own magical core. But for _Arxmancy_ , you simply direct the surrounding magic with your will, much like wandless magic. It's also much less tiring.'

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. _Wandless magic at this age?_ The old lady was either nuts or completely brilliant.

But... she couldn't help pointing something out, 'You.. tapped the stick before you put the shield around me,' she noted.

Mrs Scalar grinned, 'You're a smart girl. The tapping only helps me to concentrate. Everybody does something before the spell. Some of my students even snap their fingers or say a few specific but irrelevant trigger words like... um... _Fiddlesticks_.'

Hermione wanted to drop everything and study this strange art she had never heard of before.

'When can I start?' she said eagerly. Mrs Scalar frowned, and a sinking feeling overtook Hermione's heart. Was she too late in asking?

The _Arxmancy_ instructor pursed her lips. 'Have you heard of Divination?' she asked, her voice neutral. Hermione nodded with a frown, how was that relevant?

'Divination can only be taught properly to those who have the Sight,' the old witch sat down on her chair heavily, 'Similarly, Arxmancy can only be taught to those who have the _Arx,_ or an affinity towards sensing magic. It will take over sixty years to train one who does not have the _Arx,_ much like it is with divination and Seers.'

Hermione had a horrified look on her face. _Arxmancy was like Divination? Was it another sham? No, surely not._ She had just seen proof of it being real. A bit of sweat trickled down her brow. She wiped it off nervously. What if she didn't have the Arx? Would it be another indication that she didn't belong to the magical world?

Mrs Scalar, seeing Hermione's disconcertion, reassuringly added, 'It's alright if you don't have it. I only have about nine students in my classes, after all, and none of them with a particularly strong affinity. Septima had it in her, but she chose to ignore it, choosing to go for the flashy stuff.' She shook her head sadly. 'I'll be taking the test this Saturday morning. You can drop by if you're interested.'

Hermione took that as a dismissal and walked out of Mrs Scalar's office slowly, her mind frantically reassuring her and plunging her into the deepest depths of despair. She hadn't felt this strongly about anything since she found out about magic. She needed to prove to herself that she was more than a simple muggle born witch. She _needed_ to prove to the whole world that they were all wrong with their prejudices; and she was determined to let nothing come in her way of ascending to the greatest heights she could possibly conquer.

* * *

 _You-Know-What: You-Know-Who_

 _October 27, 1994_

In a graveyard in Little Hangleton - underneath a shining full moon - a tall, pale ghost of a man rose from the thousands of ashes strewn across the ground. Peter watched in a terrified fascination as the ashes started intermingling and hardening methodically in a swirling fashion, forming the body of a man starting with the feet until the head. The red eyes stared into his very soul, filling him with fear.

'Robe me,' said the evil - almost hissing - voice. He no longer had a disfigured face, but he was once more the handsome figure he once had. He marvelled at the power of the artefact he had stolen to achieve this. Its power was truly remarkable - it was one of the _old_ _relics_ from the times of Merlin. So much could be achieved with its aid; it was almost laughable how Dumbledore had allowed it out of Hogwarts into the much poorly defended French school. No one would be free from his power now, not even France. He felt as strong as he did in the days before he had attacked the seven times cursed Potters. Darkness almost emanated from him - the grass had withered at his feet between the ashes.

Pettigrew almost fell over in his eagerness to please the resurrected Dark Lord. He did as asked, trembling all the while.

'You are truly powerful, my lord,' he stuttered.

Voldemort spread his arms wide as a wand flew into his hand. 13 and a half inches, Yew with a core of Phoenix feather. He kicked the ornately decorated Goblet lying on the ground aside with his feet. Its purpose was served for now.

'Behold!' he thundered, pressing the Dark Mark on the Death Eater's forearm, 'Lord Voldemort has risen!'

* * *

 **A/N: I hope it wasn't too difficult to follow, but the plot had been... stagnating, for the lack of a better word. Now Voldemort's into the picture, ahead of schedule.** **I don't expect there will be any other chapters of this kind.** **I'm also pleased to say that I finally have a complete plot and subplots which y'all will hopefully like. Leave a review so I know how it's going.**


	5. Lessons

_Ma chère Fleur,_

 _You write to me after a month, and just because of a boy? And here I thought you wanted to know how your poor mother was doing…_

 _Don't mind me, I'm just teasing. I know it's a very important year for you, especially with your apprenticeship in Charms. I hope you're enjoying yourself._

 _So coming to your very incredible story._

 _Finding someone immune to your Allure is impossible. Full stop. There are no exceptions. I thought I had taught you enough to understand your heritage. It was the first thing we as Veela learn. There are simply some who are strong of will and mind, and those who are not. The simple strength of a magical core to resist our Allure does not appear before the age of magical maturity. Not even Dumbledore could have resisted it before, because it is a matter of function, not just of strength. Even after the age of seventeen, the most wizards can do is ignore us as one might ignore a beautiful flower. But when emotions come into play, there is no one who can resist us._

 _It is our curse..._ (The ink trailed off in a thin line)

 _But you know all this. And yet you sent me a letter describing how Harry Potter, an underage wizard, was able to shake off your Allure when you directed it towards him with your full strength._

 _I understand, more than you may believe, how you feel. But what you said is simply not possible. The most likely explanation is that you were Confunded. But I see you anticipated I would say this, and insisted in your letter that such was not the case._

 _I will add that, in your excitement, there is another possibility that you may not have considered. Harry may simply not be attracted to girls, the same way a few girls may feel attracted to you. As for your question about teaching Occlumency, Veela magic is magic of the mind. It runs in our blood. You would indeed be the ideal teacher for the boy, but only if my latter supposition about him is true. Please be careful, and remember your own lessons._

 _I have full faith in you being chosen for the Triwizard Tournament. Remember to write to me more often, like little Gabrielle does._

 _Love,_

 _Maman_

Fleur reread the letter for what seemed to be the hundredth time as she sat in her bed. The letter had reached her three days before she had been chosen, and she had still told Harry to wait for longer. She _knew_ she hadn't been Confunded. She knew the symptoms and she had experienced none of them.

The very possibility that Harry wasn't attracted to females simply hadn't crossed her mind. She had seen the way he looked at her before he controlled himself, for Merlin's sake. But yet, a small doubt crept into her mind, what if she was wrong?

She glanced nervously at the clock hanging in the corner of her room. She had gotten her very own room because of her special… status. At first she had protested, not wanting to isolate herself from the other girls any further. But eventually she had realised that there was no point to it. The other girls were already too jealous of her looks and brains to accept her. She had eventually accepted her own room realising it would be better for all of them.

The clock struck nine when she cast a disillusionment charm on herself and quietly crept out of her room. She had realised the moment they both had been chosen as Triwizard Champions that she would start Harry's lessons. There was no uncertainty any more. There was simply a burning curiosity in her to find out how Harry fooled the Goblet and resisted her Allure. The boy was an enigma, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. It probably wasn't the best of reasons, but she knew she would be doing the right thing. He looked like he desperately needed someone to look out for him.

She waited at her door, keeping a sharp lookout for any disillusioned people, specifically someone by the name of Potter. Invisibility was a speciality of hers, and she prided herself at being able to look through the charm.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and whirled around in surprise, her wand ready to fire, when she saw a head floating a few feet above the ground.

'Arry?' she whispered throatily. There was no way he could have got past her. Was that an invisibility cloak?

'Yeah, that's me' said the messy haired boy, 'Let's go.'

She took a deep breath and opened the door to her room. They slowly walked inside with Fleur's hand on Harry's shoulder. Her room could not be entered by a boy unless she escorted them inside personally, for obvious reasons.

Harry removed his Cloak hastily and stuffed it inside his pocket. He glanced around the room, taking in the photographs adorning its whitewashed walls. They looked to be mostly of Fleur's family, in which he noticed a miniature version of Fleur clinging on to her in many of them.

'Focus, Mr Potter,' Fleur appeared in front of his eyes, the vision of perfection. She was wearing a simple white dress which hugged her in all the right places. Her silvery hair hung behind her and she leaned slightly forward with her arms folded to emphasise her point. The momentary display of her cleavage caught Harry off guard, they just drew his eyes in. He once again felt the enticing charm of Fleur's beauty and wondered how on earth he was going to get through his lesson without going crazy. He recalled his Occlumency exercises and forced himself to concentrate.

'Yes, Miss Delacour,' He looked at the French Champion seriously, determination shining in his emerald green eyes. There were two chairs facing each other in the middle of the room. Fleur daintily dropped into one and Harry followed suit.

'Clear your thoughts,' said Fleur in a low voice and Harry instantly felt a soft pressure on his mind. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair..

'That's me,' she continued, 'remember the feeling. It is different for every mind which tries to enter yours. Right now I'm very gently employing Leglimency. You need to clear your mind while I probe around for weaknesses.'

The light around them dimmed, which Harry assumed was to help him concentrate. The books had told him to choose any one memory, preferably of a time when he felt safe, and hold it in its mind for as long as he could.

Harry closed his tight shut and immersed himself into the time when he first found out he was a wizard. He remembered Hagrid's comforting presence and the Dursely's cowering in fear. It was a mental snapshot of the time. Each detail was as clear as crystal in his mind's eye - every nook and cranny of the small cabin. He could see Hagrid's umbrella about to cast a spell and the freckle on top of his uncle's nose.

The changes started without any warning. He noticed Dudley starting to inflate slightly, his cheeks started to bulge. That wasn't supposed to happen - nothing was supposed to blow up or move. Beside him, Vernon was undergoing a similar transformation.

Harry tried to focus harder, trying to will his two relatives into what they normally were - the intent clear in his mind. It lessened, slowly and steadily, until they both went back to their normal sizes.

 _That's enough_ , Fleur's voice suddenly rang out in his mind. He lost focus and opened his eyes, breathing heavily. It had never been so tough before. He was back in his chair and Fleur was looking at him with an indecipherable expression on her face.

' _Magnifique_!' Fleur exclaimed, 'You're a natural. Mr Durant was right.'

Harry frowned - he had only maintained his memory. 'But they changed,' he fumbled, 'Dudley, Vernon - they were expanding,' The corner of his lip twisted up at the comical memory.

'But they changed back to normal, didn't they?' Fleur said, her eyes shining, 'It usually takes about a month to get to this stage. And that was your only real weakness. The big man and the rest of the boat didn't even change a bit with the amount of pressure I applied. Try to get it all right this time.'

Harry gave a hesitant nod as Fleur once again dove into his mind, not trying to get past the initial memory. The Dursley's once again started to change in size and colour. At one point, Petunia became like thin stretched rubber.

Harry looked at Fleur with disappointment.

'It was worse this time,' he said.

'Do not give up, Mr Potter,' she said reassuringly, 'I pressed a bit harder this time,' She gave him about five minutes to recover.

'I can get you some water, if you want?' Fleur asked with a questioning tone. Harry licked his dried lips and nodded. His mind was rushing through all the possible reasons for his failure, and none of them were making sense. The fact that Fleur was right in front of him wasn't helping matters either. He couldn't help but follow her every movement as she walked over to a table and picked up a glass of water. _Damn those hormones! He had come here to learn, not to be distracted by the beautiful girl teaching him, like some run-of-the-mill teenage boy_. Fleur handed the glass to him with a hint of a smile, as if she knew exactly what he was going through his head.

She entered his mind once more, with the same weaknesses being exploited.

'We'll try again, Mr Potter,' was the only comment Fleur made.

They kept at it for a couple of hours, but no matter how much Harry tried, the Dursleys' were there in all of their rotund glory to haunt him.

'I really, _really_ tried hard this time, Miss Delacour.' Beads of sweat dripped down Harry's eyebrows, and exhaustion seeped through his voice, 'It's not working.'

Fleur grimaced, it was inexplicable why he couldn't just focus on those three people properly. She would often break through them even with minimal effort. The other parts of his mind were degrees of order stronger than those three people. She had never even heard of such strong natural Occlumency barriers, except for the three weaknesses. The discrepancy was almost as unbelievable as his latent talent.

'That's all for tonight, I think,' she said, giving him a weak smile, 'Same time tomorrow,'

Harry got up, his legs feeling like lead. He glanced at Fleur, who was twisting a strand of hair around her finger with a thoughtful expression on her face.

'Do you want me Obliviate anything I saw?' she asked.

Harry shook his head, she hadn't seen anything worth asking her to erase her memory.

'Are you sure?" Fleur asked insistently.

Harry nodded firmly, getting up. 'I'll see you around, Fleur. Thanks for the lesson,' he said, throwing the Invisibility Cloak over him and closing the door. Fleur's mouth made a small 'O' as she sunk down with her back against the door. She had had her Allure at full strength during the entirety of their lesson, unlike other times when she kept it as tightly in check as she could, and Harry didn't even move a muscle to grab her attention - not any more than he had to.

It was just incredible.

The next few night were almost the same as the first one. They practised, and even talked a bit about various, casual topics afterwards. There was a tacit understanding between them to not mention the tournament, so no altercations arose.

Harry was left more discouraged than ever with his failure to improve his mental defences, but his determination never wavered.

* * *

The days after Harry had been chosen as the fourth Triwizard Champion were full of pain and isolation. The rest of the Hogwarts entourage had chosen to ignore him, even the nice ones like Angelina and Cedric.

Cedric had been furious when Harry denied having tricked the Goblet.

'I helped you out!' Cedric had exclaimed in frustration, 'Look, I'll even take an Unbreakable Vow to not tell anyone. I just _need_ to know how it picked _you_ and _Warrington_ and not me?!'

Harry had vehemently denied and even offered to take the Vow on his part. Cedric had simply sniffed and said he didn't want to kill the Boy-Who-Lived.

Everybody's disappointment and jealousy was not wholly unexpected, but that didn't make it hurt any less. He wasn't even supposed to _be_ in Beauxbatons, and here he was, chosen as a Champion, by the Goblet itself.

Draco was as bitter as usual and proving to be even more infuriating than ever. He had made some badges which said ' _Potter Stinks_ ' and distributed it around the school. The only good part was that the school staff had soon got wind of it and Draco had ended up in detention, for a month.

'I know what you want…' Draco had smirked in his direction before trudging away to detention with Mr Durant. Harry idly wondered what that was supposed to mean. Draco had been acting a bit weird lately.

He wanted to live, didn't everybody?

However, his chances of living out the year were looking increasingly unlikely - the Tournament had recorded 75 deaths in the last 50 years of running. A 50% chance of making it through wasn't exactly reassuring, even though Hermione had assured him that more girls had died than boys.

He was pretty sure Fleur had a better chance of surviving the tournament than he did.

Ron hadn't yet replied to the letter he had sent him about being chosen as Triwizard Champion, with a chance to win innumerable Galleons and Glory, though not exactly phrased that way. _Hmm_... _He probably didn't take it too well._ Ron _was_ a bit touchy about these things.

Hermione's response had been guarded, to say the least. He had asked her point blank if she thought he had cheated. He had even felt slightly guilty before asking her the question, but she hadn't given a direct answer.

'I don't know, Harry,' she had said, her eyes firmly glued to a book.

Harry snatched the book out of her hands. _Surely_ she wasn't being serious?

' _Talk_ _to_ _me_ , _Hermione_ ,' There was a fierce desperation in his voice.

Hermione met his eyes unsurely. She was someone who loved everything to be in order, neat and tidy like her study notes. The downside was that when things went south, she just didn't know what to do. Right now the situation was completely off the charts. The obvious answer was that she should agree with Harry because she was a Good Friend. But a good friend wouldn't lie to him, either.

She simply pursed her lips and shook her head, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing. Even his closest friend didn't believe him!

He stomped out of the library and endured a mostly sleepless night. It seemed the whole world was against him when he had done absolutely nothing to deserve it. _Oh, the Glory,_ he thought drily.

But the desire to prove everyone wrong grew, and he held on to that thought as he finally drifted off to a troubled sleep... His dream was oddly realistic, with sights and smells and feelings.

He was sitting on a throne and shouting orders to several men in masks, in the most sadistic way possible. There was hate in his heart and an irritating sense of frustration. He felt invincible, as if there was nothing in the world which could harm him. Spells, powerful curses spewed out his wand over and over again. There was no hint of mercy. Harry felt his mind somewhat... dirtied by the terrible nightmare.

He vividly remembered the bloodcurdling screams when he woke up.

The next day, Hermione approached him before their defense class with a book in her hand and a guilty expression on her face. He knew this was her way of apologising, but his feelings hadn't changed from the day before. He refused the proffered book, even if the hurt on Hermione's face was heartbreaking. But he could see she still didn't believe him, even though she was willing to help him.

She kept telling him useful facts about the tournament throughout their class, which Harry steadfastly ignored. There was only one thing she could do to gain his forgiveness, and she didn't even broach the topic.

The chasm which he hadn't even known had existed between them widened, and the shy looking boy with glasses once again felt as isolated as he had back in the cupboard at Privet Drive.

Only this time, even the spiders weren't there to keep him company.

* * *

It was only after the first week when Harry had gotten accustomed to her mild attacks that the Veela decided she would have to try something stronger. The lack of progress was alarming. She had to dive deeper. This was the trickier part - if she didn't minutely control the strength of her attack it could even cause damage to Harry's mental defences.

Their session started the same way - Dudley started to change first, gaining quite a flattering red clown nose and extending his waistline. But this time he kept enlarging - despite Harry's efforts - till the whole interior of the small cabin they were in exploded, and twisted into another memory.

He was younger - running through the spaces between two houses as members of Dudley's gang chased him. His old rags - or shirt, to be precise - tore as it got caught on a stray twig. It was a game they used to play - called ' _Harry Hunting_ '.

But it wasn't much of a game for him. He could remember his heart pumping wildly in his chest, and the searing pain in his feet as he ran and jumped away from the inevitable time when he would grow tired. Harry felt deeply embarrassed, and a spark of anger lit inside him as he imagined Fleur looking at one of his most deeply guarded childhood secrets. She was probably laughing at the scrawny little boy. The pain inside his head increased tenfold. The anger kept building inside him, until he felt he could contain it no longer. He felt everything boiling inside him and released all of his pent up magic with a huge ' _NO_!'

He opened his eyes to see Fleur's pale face as she physically tilted back in her chair and her head dropped down loosely. He immediately leapt up from his chair and shook her shoulder slightly, saying, 'Fleur.'

When she didn't respond, he grew more concerned and brought out his wand.

'Rennervate!' he cast frantically, but she didn't respond. 'Rennervate! _Rennervate!_ '

 _Please wake up_ , he pleaded, his mind filling with dread. Even in her unconscious state, he couldn't help but notice the ethereal quality of her beauty. There wasn't a blemish on her skin, or a hint of imperfection in her features. It was as if magic itself had sculpted her to perfection. But it was the peaceful look on her face that caught Harry's attention more than anything. Usually she would be so... cold, so controlled, like a ballerina standing on the tips of her toes _en pointe_. But she was so relaxed in this state, it made her seem completely different. Harry resisted an urge to brush away a strand of hair from her face.

Her blue eyes fluttered wide all of a sudden.

' 'Arry?' she said curiously, ' _Quoi?_ What is ze matter?' Her voice was heavily accented as he saw her straightening with a lighthearted feeling in his heart. He was feeling incredibly guilty for lashing out with his magic.

A flash of recognition came into her eyes as she said in a stronger voice,

'You repelled my attack?'

'I'm sorry,' said Harry, 'I didn't mean to... hurt you.'

He half closed his eyes, expecting her to say that they couldn't continue their lessons any longer or something to that effect.

But Fleur leaned back in her chair, brushed the corner of her lips and gave him an understanding nod.

'I think I know what has been going wrong with your shield now,' she hesitated briefly, 'Who was that boy with you in your first memory?'

Harry instantly became guarded, 'My cousin,' he said neutrally.

'He is a muggle?' Fleur asked gently. She had a sinking feeling as to where this was going and she didn't like one bit of it.

Harry nodded, he didn't like being reminded of the Dursely's any more than he had to.

He felt the soft touch of Fleur's hand on top of his own, sending shivers travelling up his arm. She was looking at him concernedly, which made him lower his eyes in embarrassment. He hated being pitied, he hated being told anyone was sorry for him. They could never understand, and it only made it worse when they tried. It was the reason he never talked about his childhood - he didn't want anyone's pity.

'I have to ask, Harry,' Fleur said gently, 'Did that boy… bully you... as a child?'

A lump came into Harry's throat. He found he couldn't speak. Here was someone whom he barely knew, asking him about something incredibly personal, even if a part of him wanted to talk about it. There was that dreaded expression - _Pity._ A sudden surge of anger crept up inside him. Was she really that arrogant to assume that she could solve all his problems by talking to him? The worst thing was, he could see in her face that her concern was genuine.

He began scouring his mind for a way to divert her attention, and blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

'What's your special ability?' He saw her confused expression and repeated his question, more confidently this time.

Fleur frowned, letting go of his hand. She knew he was changing the topic, but that only confirmed what she had asked was true.

'Why do you want to know?' She bit her lip.

Harry saw the opening and took it. Anything less than his full effort to divert her attention would direct the conversation back to the Durselys and he desperately wanted to avoid _that_.

'Mr Durant said you'll be able to help me better because you have a special ability,' he shot at her, 'Aurelie refuses to talk to me about it and nobody else seems to know anything about it.' He fixed his gaze with hers. 'So tell me, _Miss Delacour_ , what makes you so special?'

Fleur was lost for words, she didn't think they would be having this conversation so _soon_. She knew Harry wouldn't like something being hidden from his for so long. But she also knew she wasn't ashamed of who she was.

She flipped back her hair, 'I am a Veela,' she pronounced, 'Our kind is deeply linked to the mind arts and we have something called the Allure, which makes us attractive and more desirable to males, which usually manifests as their poor attempts to impress us.'

She laughed lightly at the gobsmacked expression on Harry's face. She had given him a brief overview about herself, but even that much seemed to be proving too much for the poor boy. He held his head in his hands and lifted it up slightly to look at the amused girl.

'So _that's_ why...' he whispered.

'The odd thing is,' Fleur interrupted, 'you're not affected by me, even if you should be.'

Harry grew a bit red, all thoughts of Privet Drive driven out of his head by this new revelation. The Gryffindor in him forced him to speak up.

'I _am_ affected,' he admitted, trying to look anywhere but towards her. The ceiling was painted quite a fetching colour of blue.

Fleur sighed, this was turning out to be more complicated than she had expected. She did take a certain amount of pride in her beauty, but it had caused more problems for her than any other thing in her life. She sometimes wondered how people would act if she didn't have an Allure.

'People try to impress me when they're affected by my Allure,' she said slowly, 'Do you feel like... I don't know,' she waved her hands, 'Flexing your biceps or doing a headstand or... or something like that?' _Or stare and drool, perhaps?_ she added in her mind. But he wasn't doing any of those things. There was only one last thing to test.

'Dance for me, _please_ ,' Fleur fixed Harry with her sweetest smile, the kind that would make most boys turn into a mindless puddle of water.

Harry rolled his eyes, 'I'm said I'm affected, not crazy,'

'That's what being affected means. It would be like you wanting to do anything I ask of you to make me happy. But you're not affected!'' Fleur felt a small sense of elation. He had admitted he wasn't affected by her Allure. _Maman_ _had been wrong!_

Harry looked at her coldly. He was having a hard time trusting people these days. Especially when someone just admitted to trying to manipulate him, and then denied it immediately afterwards. She should have told him about her right from the beginning. Who knew what ulterior motive she had to teaching him Occlumency? Was this something else he had to tolerate just because he was the freaking Boy-Who-Lived?! Did she _look_ for the memory about Dudley and his gang _on purpose?_

He felt betrayed.

The green eyed wizard stood up abruptly, his eyes colder than liquid nitrogen and his heart hollow at thought of losing someone he had thought could be a friend.

'I'm sorry, Miss Delacour,' he said frostily, throwing on his Invisibility Cloak, 'I have to go.'

Fleur could only look in astonishment at her door opening and closing softly, wondering what she could have said which caused him to leave like that. _And the look in his eyes_ , she shuddered, she didn't even want to think about it. It was a look which had no right being on the face of someone as young as he was. It just wasn't... _right_. But it was a look she was very familiar with. She knew it intimately. It was the look of someone who was alone.

She saw it every time she looked into the mirror.

* * *

The usually empty Malfoy Manor was abuzz with activity in the middle of the night. Lights flared from almost all of its windows and the carefully fashioned pathway to the front door had been trodden over thousands of times. The famed high vaulted dining room had been transformed into an impromptu meeting place - without the table - and a throne which had been hastily summoned. On that exaggerated throne sat the half-blood Tom Marvolo Riddle, self-fashioned as Lord Voldemort. His aristocratic face sneered at each of the cowards who wore the Dark Mark. They were standing in two straight lines on either side of his seat, fear etched on their faces.

He would have to organise an Azkaban breakout soon, so that his most loyal followers were not deprived of serving him any longer. Meanwhile, he would have to straighten out these brats who had become used to the comfort of the ministry and empty politics.

'WORTHLESS!' he shouted, his voice echoing throughout the hall, 'That's what you mudbloods are - _worthless_! Tell me, what have you done to regain the favour of Lord Voldemort?! Why should he spare your lives for your lack of faith? I have returned, no doubt to the... _inconvenience,_ of many of you, but _why_ should I allow you to live?'

His voice had become ice cold, and sent shivers up the spine of his followers. He was famous for his rage, and even those in the very lowest ranks knew something was about to break. No one dared to speak out.

'TELL ME!' Voldemort shouted, standing up. He twirled his wand in his fingers, a weapon of death and despair. The threat was evident.

Lucius Malfoy, as ambitious as ever and desperate to get back into his Lord's good graces, spoke up smoothly and confidently,

'My Lord, not all of us have been idle,' he gave a small condescending glance to those beside him, 'I myself, never gave up faith. My contacts in the ministry are flourishing and the Minister himself-'

' _Crucio_!' The Dark Lord shouted, _enough of Lucius' silver tongued drivel._

Lucius' features contorted in agony, pain wracked every inch of his body. He screamed as hot knives pressed into his skin from all directions, twisting and turning as there was nothing but pain in his world. After what seemed like hours, but was only about a minute, Voldemort released the spell. It would not do to drive one of his most useful followers into insanity. The Dark Lord looked at the rows of Death Eaters, gauging their response. He could see from their faces that they had expected Malfoy to die, and this reprieve would be seen as a sign of weakness.

That would _not_ do.

'Do _not_ lie to me, _Lucius_. Your mind is as clear as glass to me, ' Voldemort snarled, 'Go now, and do not let it be said that Lord Voldemort is not merciful,'

Lucius somehow dragged himself back to where he had been standing, and passed into unconsciousness as he could bear the aftereffects of his torment no longer. Nobody paid him any heed except for a certain wizard who snickered quietly from a distance.

'And _you,_ Avery!' Voldemort snapped his head in the Death Eater's direction, 'What have _you_ done to gain my favour?'

Avery came forward trembling and kissed the hem of the Dark Lord's robes, 'My Lord,' he floundered, 'I have been loyal, always dedicated-'

' _Crucio!'_

Voldemort gazed with disgust at the filth which had the audacity to betray precious Death Eater secrets to the Ministry for his pardon. _None_ of the traitors would go unpunished.

He released the curse after half a minute.

'You are merciful, my Lord,' Avery didn't dare lift his head, but deep in his heart he knew what was going to happen. He didn't even know when it hit him.

' _Avada Kedavra!_ '

Voldemort gazed at the remaining Death Eaters in satisfaction, one less in number. This might give them some more motivation to serve him loyally. But he knew, in order to gain their complete confidence, he would have to dispose of Potter first. The accursed Boy-who-Lived-only-because-he-got-lucky-for-his-mother's-protection. The child had no power, nothing to deserve all the attention he had got. He could not be allowed to live as proof of one of Voldemort's failures. There was only one obstacle - he was in France. Dumbledore must have gotten wind of his return from somewhere - _Ah yes... Snape_... Voldemort knew he should'nt have trusted that slimy, pathetic, lovesick idiot.

But the blood of Slytherin ran through Voldemort's veins - Potter would not be safe from him anywhere on this planet.

He grinned evilly, Karkaroff would prove to be useful, even if that traitor hadn't answered his call. And regardless, there _were_ other avenues available to him.

'Bring the girl in!' he roared.

Yaxley came forward, guiding a trembling girl through the middle of the room. She gazed fearfully at the corpse lying in front of her. Her blue eyes rose slowly to look at the famed, supposed dead, Dark Lord of Britain. She moistened her lips nervously.

' _Speak_ ,' said Voldemort with an evil glint in his eyes, 'how long till we have Harry Potter here with us?'

The girl closed her eyes for one long moment before speaking, 'He doesn't trust easily, my Lord. He is not allowed out of the palace, Dumbledore stopped him. But... I can do it,' her voice was shaking uncontrollably, 'I can make him listen to me. I will just need... some more time,'

She looked at the ground, her mind full of misgivings but she had forced herself to think that it would all be worth it... in the end. There was so much she had to gain, but her very life was at stake. Failing was not an option.

Voldemort laughed maniacally, the very sound sending shivers down her spine. It sounded so... _unnatural_.

'Foolish _child_ ,' he hissed, 'If Dumbledore does not want him outside, that means he knows already. He _will_ not let the boy out of his sight now.'

He looked at the Death Eaters - Snape was not present. There were two possibilities. Either his loyal spy was loyal to Dumbledore, else he had a _very_ good explanation for being late. Voldemort detested explanations, it made killing harder. _But keeping people alive,_ his lips curled, _was sometimes necessary_. There would be very Death Eaters left otherwise.

The frightened girl wondered if these were the last moments she had to live. Her hands picked a few strands of her red hair as she fiddled with them nervously, her eyes glued to the polished dark floor all the while. That monster was _not_ supposed to back so early. She had been told it would take several months, at the very least. She wanted to scream in frustration. _Everything had gone wrong now._

Voldemort regarded the teary blue eyed beauty in front of him. She was only a means for getting to Potter, a temporary measure while he called in more... dependable serva-allies. She was expendable, but her death would cause too much unrest ahead of time. He coldly tore through the mind of the bearer of bad news, mercilessly ripping the thoughts from her mind. Her high pitched scream was music to his ears. She had indeed managed to befriend Potter. Very cunningly, indeed. That would make her death a greater loss, perhaps. _Only perhaps._

He swished his wand in front of him violently, sending her crashing into a couple of Death Eaters.

'Send her back,' he said, almost as an afterthought.

Yaxley grabbed her roughly, walked out of the manor, brought out an old coin and vanished along with her.

Voldemort looked beside his throne at Barty Crouch Junior, his current second in command. Malfoy had to be shown his place, lest he become too arrogant.

'You said the Triwizard tournament is in progress, in France,' Riddle said thoughtfully.

'Yes, my Lord,' said Crouch.

'Students from the three most prestigious schools in Europe are present there, I believe. The most prestigious students, in fact.'

Crouch bowed low, 'As you say, my Lord,' He wondered where Voldemort was going with this.

'I have three people loyal to me, two of them branded with my Mark, inside its supposedly safe doors,' said the Dark Lord.

Crouch agreed with him once more, gazing fearfully at the red ring in his eyes.

'Harry Potter will not leave until the end of term, at the end of which he will be taken to a place where I will not be able to reach him. It will be roughly a year before I will be able to get close to him.' Voldemort eyes flashed. He was _not_ satisfied with the current outlook. The entire hall reverberated as waves of power rolled off him. The air was almost saturated with magic as tingles travelled down the neck of the Death Eaters. A few tiles cracked viciously. Lord Voldemort was displeased.

'That will _not_ do,' he pronounced, 'the world needs to know that I do not fear Potter, and he can do _nothing, NOTHING,_ to stop me. Their saviour _needs_ to die.'

The once again composed Riddle looked at the white face of Crouch Junior beside him.

Barty steeled his face, 'That is correct,'

Voldemort drummed his fingers on the arm of the throne he was sitting on.

'Dumbledore needs to be taken care of before we take any action.' Voldemort stood up, 'Gather our allies, all the dark creatures, wizards, and start recruiting and preparing. The War has begun!'

The Death Eaters cheered as the blanket of darkness deepened and grabbed them by their throats, never to let go and unmerciful. Voldemort was back, and he was more powerful than ever.

* * *

Yaxley appeared with a _pop!_ in a side street off _Grande Rue,_ the equivalent of Diagon Alley which could be accessed from Beauxbatons and a few other places in France. It was deserted, and the Portkey took the Death Eater back to his lair. The still shivering Aurelie collapsed into the side of a building, bursting into nerve wracking sobs. _It wasn't fair, none of this was fair_. But she knew what her father would said - she brought this upon herself and she would have to live with it.

She looked up at the buildings around her, they were stone structures with tiny windows - probably residential judging by the flowerpots hanging down.

Beauxbatons would allow students who were of age to do as they wished on weekends, when there were no classes or obligations. Students often visited _Grande Rue_ , which was the nucleus of French magical culture and had plenty of shops to suit their fancy. No one would question a seventh year missing from school on a Saturday afternoon.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Aurelie dried her tears and walked back to the _Grande Rue_.

She sent a Patronus to Fleur, who appeared beside her in a couple of moments.

'Thank God, ' Fleur said in French, spelling a bit more colour into her school robes, 'You took your time.'

Aurelie looked at her apologetically, 'I'm so sorry, but it didn't go too well,'

Fleur shook her head and pulled in closer for a tight hug. Aurelie had told her she had been out trying for places in several Quidditch clubs every weekend; and had been rejected each time so far. Aurelie's passion for the sport was well known, but Fleur didn't really care about the game. She did care about Aurelie though, so she was always there for her when she came back with a dejected look on her face.

Fleur noticed a few dried tear tracks and felt another twinge of sorrow.

'Come,' she said to her red haired friend, 'I'll treat you to some coffee. You like it hot, _non_?'

Aurelie nodded, not trusting herself to speak without spilling all her secrets. She felt terrible about lying to Fleur, and felt like coming clean every time. But she knew if she ever gave a hint, all her hard work would vanish like Leprechaun gold.

That didn't make it hurt any less, though.

The coffee shop was crowded, and both of the girls attracted far more attention that either would have wanted. Aurelie could sense Fleur's frustration as her allure drew in several men trying to impress her. A brief notice-me-not charm soon took care of that, but just barely. A silencing spell took care of other concerns. Soft music played in the background.

'Do you want to talk about it?' Fleur asked with a small smile, folding her hands on the wooden table. Her talkative friend was unusually quiet.

Aurelie was startled for a second. She had forgotten to think of a story in advance for her visit to the training ground of the _Balais_ _Bleus_. She had been far too distracted to do anything else other than call her friend.

'No,' she blurted out, not wanting to hesitate any longer. She took a large sip of her coffee, almost burning her mouth in the process.

Fleur was startled, and a bit concerned. Usually they would joke about Aurelie's trials, saying that the team didn't deserve someone like her; and it would all blow over and eventually be forgotten. Fleur hadn't got such an abrupt response from her ever before. She was just about to ask what was wrong when a Bear Patronus came flying in through the window.

It inched inside their privacy ward and spoke to Fleur in the voice of her school Headmistress.

'Fleur Delacour,' she said, her voice strained and a bit hoarse, 'Come at once. Your presence is required in the school.'

* * *

 **A/N: So I'm back to the usual format. Hope you liked the chapter. A bit more interaction with Fleur - which I found pretty enjoyable to write, if anyone's interested. All constructive** **criticism is appreciated. Leave a review so I know how it's going.**


	6. Ignorance

Harry walked into Maxime's office, glancing around for familiar faces. The Headteachers were all there, along with the Ministry officials and some people he didn't know. Krum and Warrington were talking in low voices in the corner of the room and the atmosphere was a lot more formal than he had expected. He had only been told that he had to be there for something related to the tournament and all these unfamiliar faces were making him a bit uneasy.

One of the unfamiliar faces suddenly approached him. He would guess she was in her thirties, and her robes were a deep shade of purple. She gave him a friendly smile.

'Harry Potter?' she asked briskly. Her brown hair was made into a bun.

Harry tried his best to hide his annoyance, but he wasn't sure he succeeded. He brushed a lock of hair over his forehead.

'Yeah,' he said. He looked at her questioningly.

' _Bonjou_ r! I'm Louise Simon, reporter for _La Vérité,_ covering the Triwizard Tournament and related stories. If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions.'

Seeing Harry's lack of response, she continued, 'Well then, how do you feel about becoming the unprecedented _fourth_ competitor in the _Tri_ wizard Tournament? Happy? Ecstatic? Elated? _Apathetic?_ '

She brought a quill and paper out her bag and looked at Harry, raising an expectant eyebrow.

He gave her an awkward smile. He wasn't sure how to respond - he had never liked reporters much anyways. But there didn't really seem to be any harm in answering a few questions. In fact, it was the first time someone had asked him how he felt about this whole fiasco.

'Well...' he licked his lips slowly, 'I didn't want any of this, so angry should describe my feelings pretty well. I'm being forced to take part in something I had _absolutely_ -'

A small cough interrupted Harry. Its source, a tall, old man with twinkling eyes and an overtly long white beard placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

'I'm afraid the Weighing of the Wands is about to start, my boy. And as a competitor, your presence is unfortunately essential to the proceedings. Excuse us,' Dumbledore looked at the reporter condescendingly, who ignored the old wizard but gave Harry a small wink. _What was that about?_

He guided Harry through the growing crowd to a small clearing where the three other champions were standing. Harry was a bit annoyed, he had been looking forward to venting a bit about his predicament, maybe even draw the attention of the public to it if possible. He had never used his celebrity status for anything, perhaps it could finally come in useful? But no, Dumbledore had arrived at exactly the wrong moment to divert his attention. His three opponents were trying to make small talk, and Krum seemed to be getting along with Warrington. Fleur stood a bit apart, and threw a few casual glances around the room. She looked a bit out of breath, and uncharacteristically flustered. Harry tried his best to look at anyone but her, but they were arranged into in a small line with both of them standing beside each other.

The bored witch turned her head brightly, only to see him looking stiffly ahead with an expressionless face. She frowned, _what was wrong with him?_ His eyes were fixed far on the corner of a room. The events of their last meeting were still fresh in Harry's mind, and the the hurt still rankled, even though he had tried his best to ignore it. But Fleur didn't know that.

Ludo Bagman had started speaking with a beaming smile on his space.

'The Weighing of the Wands is an integral part of the Triwizard Tournament's tradition. Monsieur Argent,' he glanced at a short, old man with a slightly irritated look on his face standing beside him, '...the famed wandmaker, will be presiding over the proceedings and will check that each of the Competitor's wands is in proper working condition for the tournament.'

Krum went first, handing over his wand with a scowl. Monsieur Argent held the wand close to his eyes and scrutinised every inch of it, all the while muttering away to himself.

'A Gregorovitch creation, I presume,' Monsieur Argent's eyes darted towards Krum.

'Yes,' Krum said shortly.

'Ten and a quarter inches long, made out of hornbeam and dragon heartstring, ' the wand maker mused, 'Gregorovitch always did prefer his hornbeam.'

He gave the wand a short flick. Small flames jumped up from its end.

'Adequate,' he said, handing the wand back to Krum, who almost snatched it out his fingers. The wand maker turned to Warrington, taking his wand. He went through the same motions.

'Ten and a half inches... beech... unicorn tail hair, am I right? One of Ollivander's, I presume?'

'Yeah, that's right.' Warrington said.

Argent conjured a small flock of tiny birds and vanished it.

'Flexible, but not overtly so. It's in good condition.' He gave the wand back to Warrington. Fleur went next.

'Ah, Miss Delacour, I remember yours very well,' the wand maker said, holding the wand delicately 'Yes, one of my finest creations. Nine and a half inches, rosewood and containing... quite remarkably, a hair from the head of your grandmother.'

He gave it a look over and gave a swish of the wand, conjuring a bunch of white lilies.

'In exquisite condition,' he said, handing over the wand to Fleur almost reluctantly.

He turned to Harry and took the proffered wand. He examined it in fine detail, even sniffing a few places.

'Eleven inches... _Ça alors,'_ his eyebrows parted in surprise, 'Holly and Phoenix Feather!' he gave Harry an odd look, 'A most unusual combination, it must be said. One of Ollivander's as well, I see. _Harrumph...'_ He scowled, 'you _British_ always put too much store by Ollivanders,' He looked as if he wanted to say more, but decided against it.

Harry nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

Monsieur Argent cast a bright _Lumos. '_ Good condition,' he grunted, handing it back to Harry.

His job done, the renowned craftsman shuffled back and sank down heavily onto a convenient chair nearby. The silence which had accompanied the event was broken as whispers rippled through the crowd. The reporter Harry had seen seemed to preparing herself for something.

Bagman took centerstage and clapped his hands, 'Thank you everybody! Or as they say here - _Merci!'_ He laughed a little at his own exaggerated French accent, 'I'm afraid that will be all for to-'

He was interrupted by a man with a camera walking upto him and glancing meaningfully at his apparatus.

Ludo coughed, 'Of course... of course. Photographs, everybody!' He gave a blinding smile which showed all his white teeth, 'Champions! Assemble!'

Harry groaned.

Warrington was left out of most pictures, courtesy of being neither a celebrity nor a Veela. Harry would have given anything for the Slytherin's good fortune, but he wasn't so fortunate. He was dragged into multiple pictures, a good chunk of which were of him with Fleur, in multiple poses and all kinds of expressions. It was excruciatingly awkward, and the corners of cheek _hurt_ from all the smiling. It took ages for them to get a good angle on any of the pictures, and Krum's moody face made it almost impossible to get a good picture of him from anywhere.

Harry personally decided that he would go for Krum's approach for the next photoshoot - if he ever had to endure another. It seemed a pretty effective technique for discouraging... pretty much everybody.

Louise, the reporter, approached Harry after his ordeal had ended. They were both outside Madame Maxime's office. Louise was grinning with anticipation. There was nothing like exposing the faults of an established system to make a day memorable. Of course, she would triple check her facts. The only thing worse than no news was false news, in her opinion. That was something _nobody_ in her office would tolerate.

'I'd love to hear _all_ about-' she started.

But once again, Dumbledore, with his mysterious knack of appearing at exactly the wrong moment, stood frowning in front of them.

'I'm afraid the ceremony is over, ' his half moon spectacles wobbled dangerously at the end of his nose as he looked down at the two, 'As such, I must ask you to leave and Harry to return to his classes.'

Harry was almost seething with anger as he walked back to his room. Dumbledore had no right interrupting them like that - _twice_. Did he even remember that it wasn't his own school? He sure didn't act like it. He fumed as he kicked a stray knut lying on the ground in irritation.

He didn't even notice Aurelié on the other side of the corridor looking at him with wide eyes.

* * *

 _The Next Day:_

Ron's letter arrived in the morning. It was short, concise, brief, straightforward and to the point.

 _Hey mate, how did you actually trick the goblet?_

Harry stared at the note in disgust, as it promptly incinerated into ashes. Well... he tried to do it wandlessly. But he had to settle for tearing into shreds and feeding it to the resident Hippogriff, who chewed it up pretty happily.

His time, after lunch, had been monopolised by someone he had considered to be one of his closest friends.

Harry tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Hermione to emerge from her room. A few days before the Champions were chosen, she had told him about something called Arxmancy. She had droned on about how mind-blowing it was and how she absolutely had to try out to be selected in that class. It had caught Harry's attention at first, but he quickly lost interest as he realised it didn't have any practical application, for him at least. Taking more than a second to set up and cast a shield was pretty much useless if your adversary was standing a few metres from you and had a wand. But Hermione was positively hysterical about the whole thing. Eventually, Harry had promised to accompany her for the tryouts.

Of course, when she had asked, neither of them had anticipated that things could change so quickly between them.

Regardless, Hermione had reminded him, in a small voice, if he could just, _just_ come with her and be there while she gave the test. It would be short, she promised, and he didn't even have to ask her how it went. She just wanted someone to come with her while she took " _The most important test of my muggleborn life._ "

Harry had wanted to refuse with all his heart, but a promise meant something to him. Besides, it wasn't as if they weren't on talking terms. It was simply that Hermione was no longer what she used to be to him. It was like he had thought a sickle was a galleon all his life, but it actually turned out to be knut. It hadn't changed, it just _was_ , and that was how it would be between them.

The bushy haired witch banged the door of the room behind her, with her wand in between her teeth, and her hands full of books and papers. She stuffed a good portion of her notes inside her bag and furiously skimmed through a book on Arithmancy.

'There _has_ to be something...' she kept muttering, 'Let's go,' she told Harry.

They went up a flight of stairs and walked along the narrow corridor to the North Wing. True to her word, Hermione didn't try to strike up a conversation with Harry, opting instead to read through her papers with an extremely nervous look on her face. But the atmosphere was thick with tension. Harry walked beside her in a cold silence. She stopped outside a classroom.

Anxiety bubbled in her eyes. Her hands shook and a fluttering book dropped to the ground. He had rarely seen her this nervous, even before the year end exams. She looked at Harry with an incomprehensible expression, internally debating something within herself. She took a few steps towards the door, hovering uncertainly at its threshold. Throwing caution to the winds, she turned around and threw her arms around Harry,

' _Wish me luck,_ ' she whispered, letting go of him and walking inside the classroom.

No answer came. Harry's mind was still rebelliousness and unwilling to accept her as a friend once more. _She_ _had_ _let him down_ , in the worst way possible, how could she not understand that? A hug wasn't going to change that.

He worked on a few Occlumency exercises while waiting for Hermione. They were starting to come to him more naturally now, and he was even starting to notice how the Dursely's were a major weakness in his mind. He would have to work harder on that part - force himself to overcome his natural disgust at their sight.

He was broken from his thoughts by the door being flung open and Hermione stalking out with red eyes and tear marks clearly visible on her cheeks. Her face was scrunched with creases. She ignored Harry and walked ahead by herself only to stop after a few steps. She turned with an angry face, and walked back with a forced confidence.

'I left my wand,' she proclaimed, as she walked past him.

Harry peered through the open door and saw an old woman with countless wrinkles staring back at him. Her wood rimmed glasses looked quite amusing. _That must be the Arxmancy teacher,_ he thought. The room was spacious and filled with several charts covering its walls containing intricate diagrams.

'Come in!' the old woman said in a loud voice.

Harry thought about explaining he didn't really want to 'come in', but decided it would take more time than just saying hello and leaving. He stepped inside with a polite smile, and looked around for Hermione, why the _blazes_ was she looking under a _sofa_ for her wand?

'I'm Laura Scalar,' the woman said, 'You with her?' She looked at Hermione.

Harry nodded.

Mrs Scalar gave a small chuckle and said confidentially, 'She doesn't have the Arx - you need to make her understand that. Very passionate, she is. But when you don't have it - you don't have it,' She shrugged.

Harry nodded politely, hoping Hermione would hurry up. He didn't particularly want to spend his afternoon humouring half senile old ladies.

'What's your name, boy?' she looked at him piercingly.

Harry felt a sudden surge of anger at her using the word 'boy', but quickly quelled it and said, 'Harry Potter.'

There was no hint of recognition in her eyes, something which Harry was extremely relieved about. The wrinkles around her eyes only deepened. She pulled her Dragon skin cloak tightly around her shoulders, 'Bit of a chill, eh?'

'Yeah,' said Harry tiredly, even though it wasn't. Hermione was now frantically turning over a sheaf of loose papers lying on a table.

'So, you got the Arx?' Mrs Scalar shot at him unexpectedly. It was clear she had been wanting to ask the question for a while.

Harry was a bit startled as he replied, 'I'm not sure I even know what that it is.'

'Well,' she stood up, taller than Harry had expected her to be and said, 'Let's find out, shall we?' There was a an unnerving grin on her face.

Harry sighed, he wasn't really interested and he had been waiting far too long already, in his opinion. Maybe he could just leave, and Hermione would come back in her own time. He curled his lips up reluctantly.

But Mrs Scalar was looking at him sternly, as if knowing what he intended to do.

'It'll only take a few minutes,' she insisted. Finding new students to teach was somewhat of an obsession for her and she would scour the school for students looking for someone with the Arx. She was in no way inclined to let Harry go without satisfying her curiosity. The Arx could be in _anyone_ , _anywhere_.

She laid her palm open in front of him, 'Your wand, young man,' she ordered.

Harry resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to spend more time here than he wanted to. Besides, why upset the old witch needlessly? Best to get things over with quickly. He gave his wand hesitantly. She tapped his wand with her own and gave it back to him. Harry frowned, the familiar rush of warmth that would rush through him when he held his wand wasn't there. It almost seemed... muted.

'What did you-' he started but was interrupted by a severe look.

'You'll find out soon enough,' she said and guided him to stand inside a small circle made on the ground. His body shivered slightly as he entered the circle. There was an odd feeling to it. The entire setup wasn't feeling right. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up in anticipation. The circle seemed to have transported him somewhere else entirely. He was inside inside the room, but the rest of it seemed so... _far away_.

Mrs Scalar had taken out her wand and pointed it at Harry. Her teeth were gleaming a pure white.

'I'm going to cast a _Stupefy_ at you,' she said, her voice reaching him clearly, 'Cast a shield at the instant I fire the spell,'

Harry nodded, his fingers curling around the firm wood of his wand. He gazed at the woman's wand intently.

' _Stupefy!_ ' she shouted, and a red beam of light came racing towards him.

' _Protego_!' he cast confidently with the appropriate wand movements, awaiting the familiar green that would always appear shimmering in front of him. But this time it never materialised. The red light came closer, but at the instant it hit the side of the circle - it grew slightly translucent and veered off in another direction. Harry stared at the red spell in astonishment. He hadn't cast the shield, and yet the spell never hit him. Even if the shield had been invisible, it would have stopped the spell, not deflected it in another direction like a ray of light striking a mirror.

A sudden sound of wood clattering on the ground came to his ears as he noticed Mrs Scalar's wand lying on the ground.

' _Impossible.._.' she muttered, sheer confusion etched on her aged face. She clutched the sides of her face in disbelief.

Harry stepped outside the circle with a sigh of relief as everything felt normal again. Everything except for his wand, that is.

Mrs Scalar looked at him as if he was a rare painting or some priceless work of art. She picked up her wand and sat down heavily, the old chair creaking at the joints. She motioned Harry to come closer.

'It is so strong within you...' she said, almost reverently, ' _so_ _strong_. Almost as much as _I_ -' her voice broke off.

' _What_?' Harry said irritably, _why was she speaking in riddles?_

' _The Arx_ ,' she breathed, 'your affinity towards raw magic is unlike any I have ever seen,' She grabbed his shoulders without warning and stared into his eyes, 'You manipulated it to defend you. The circle you were in was focused with a large amount of magic. _You_ bent it to your will.'

Harry nodded, _that made some sense_.

That piece of wood you're holding is not your wand,' she continued, 'it was simply so you could believe you could do the defensive magic without a wand.'

Harry's eyes widened as she handed over his Holly and Phoenix Feather wand. 'A simple switching spell,' she said. Warmth rushed up Harry's arm, the wand overjoyed to be finally reunited with its master.

'The large concentration of magic helped of course.' Mrs Scalar explained, taking off her glasses 'For usual cases, the spell is supposed to hit you and I can determine if you have the Arx by finding out how successfully you could block my spell. Most new students having the Arx can stop only about 20%. You not only stopped the entire spell, but you sent it _back_!'

Harry tried to wrap his mind around the entire thing as Mrs Scalar spoke again.

'Look at me,' she said insistently.

Harry instinctively did as she asked and instantly felt a searing pain in his head. It was sharper and went deeper than any of Fleur's attacks had been, but it didn't look at any memories. The blinding pain only increased, and just as he felt he would scream, it subsided.

It took a few moments to regain his bearings, but when he did - Harry was livid.

'WHAT WAS THAT?!' he shouted, shaking with anger. The day just kept getting worse and _worse_. That batty old witch had just _assaulted_ his mind without any warning. He pointed the tip of his wand at her throat. He should never have _come_ with Hermione! This was a school, for Merlin's sake, and he had just been attacked by one of its teachers!

Mrs Scalar was flushed but not the slightest ounce of regret showed on her face.

'I had to know,' she said in a kind of a daze, 'The Arx is controlled by the magical core and the mind. Your _mind_...' she shook her head in wonder, 'It's unlike any I have ever seen. It is older, deeper and more _convoluted_ than I could possibly imagine. It explains your Arx, and you're not so bad at Occulumency, are you?'

Harry lowered his wand. Either the woman was completely nuts or... or _what?!_ How on earth could she imagine all this? She saw all that in his... _head_?

'But I'm not good at Occulumency,' he objected, 'you went through my barriers as if they weren't even there.'

Mrs Scalar chuckled, 'That's because I didn't go through your barriers, your memories are safe. I examined it's... ummm, blueprint, rather.'

Harry felt tired. 'What's wrong with my mind, exactly?' he asked, his anger replaced with confusion.

'Ah... that's difficult to say. Your mind is intermingled with... someone other than you, it seems. There is an extra layer to it, if I had to guess. Did your parents perform some ritual on you that went wrong when you were young, by any chance? It's fascinating what the old pureblood families get up to.'

Harry winced internally. He had no parents who could have performed any ritual on him. But she didn't need to know that now, did she?

He grimaced, as if remembering something painful, 'That's probably it,' he said.

Mrs Scalar beamed, 'So I'll see you day after tomorrow in my class?' she asked, but it wasn't really a question. She was already celebrating acquiring her newest acquisition.

Harry swore under his breath. His life was already complicated enough. He wasn't in a mood to learn party tricks, and he definitely wasn't going to let anyone force him into _anything_ else.

'No,' he said firmly, 'Not a chance,' he told the surprised and dumbfounded witch. _And definitely not after what you did_ , he added in his mind.

Hermione had finally found her wand and was looking at the two of them, comprehension dawning upon her features. _So that's what the two of them had been doing for so long._

Mrs Scalar opened her mouth to speak.

' _Never_ ,' he said viciously, a bit surprised by his own aggression, ' _Please_ don't ask again,' he said and took Hermione's arm and walked out quickly, leaving the door open behind him. The year had enough surprises as it was. Arxmancy probably wasn't going to help him survive the Triwizard Tournament, so it could mind its own business as far as he was concerned.

* * *

Aurelie sat on a rock beside one of the various ponds in the Beauxbatons' grounds. It was peaceful, not frequented a lot by students. It was pleasing to the eye. It was in fact her favourite place to think and reminisce, often of the days before she had embarked on this far-fetched plan of hers. The still, shimmering water helped her to think... and occasionally plot. She liked to think of it as her very own private place - not even her own sister knew where she disappeared to when she wanted to be alone. She threw a rock, watching it as it only skipped once and sunk into the water.

The count was pretty low by her standards - but her mind was pretty disturbed at the moment. No, scratch that - It was a turmoil of rushing waters swirling into a hurricane. She had to fix things - and fast. She knew she didn't have much to time to act if she wanted to have a semblance of control over her life. You-know-who didn't have a very high tolerance threshold, and if she didn't act fast, she would quickly become disposable - if she wasn't already. She had to prove herself to be valuable.

She threw another stone into the water, watching as ripples spread across its surface. The stars were coming out slowly.

She understood that there was some sort of protection Harry had which prevented Voldemort from directly harming him until he came of age. Removing that protection would go a long way towards ensuring she wasn't a twitching corpse at a crazed Dark Lord's feet, even though he _was_ quite handsome.

A memory came back to her when she had seen Harry walking away from Dumbledore, his apparent mentor, in anger. In the past few days, she had noticed Harry slowly becoming isolated from those around him. He had garnered a lot of hatred, and rumours were strife of him cheating the Goblet to get what he wanted. She knew Harry wasn't in his best state of mind at the moment. He felt hurt, betrayed, cold, angry and like there was no one on his side.

She knew this was her chance to cement her position as his closest confident.

She would be the friend who would console him and comfort him. She would say she believed him, and he would have no reason to suspect her of anything untoward - that's what friend's are for, right? She would gain his trust in his time of weakness. They would finally become closer, and he might even be persuaded towards a few suggestions on her part. This was the golden opportunity she had been waiting for. The whole idea finally clicked in her mind.

She stood up decidedly, her resolve hardened. If this succeeded, things might finally start to look up and You-know-who would finally understand and appreciate her for her worth, and she would get what she wanted, at long last. Her ambition knew no bounds, and freaking Harry Potter wasn't going to get in the way.

She hurried back towards the palace, making sure her she had her red hair done up prettily in a ponytail. She even went to her room to pick out a fresh robe with a matching top underneath. Appearances _were_ important, after all. The common area in front of Harry's room was occupied by a few older Hogwarts students who looked at her oddly. She ignored them, smoothened out the creases in her skirt and knocked sharply at his door. No answer came. She knocked again, a bit louder. A few moments later, a dull green eyed boy with more messy hair than usual opened the door. He was wearing a very old looking pair of pants and a faded white shirt. Harry looked faintly surprised to see her.

'What?' he asked, a bit harshly.

Aurelie bit her lip, giving him a small smile 'I wanted to see how you were doing. We haven't talked in a while,' She looked at him concernedly.

Harry shook his head, 'I'm fine,' He was clearly lying.

'No, you're not,' The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, 'you've not been fine since Halloween,'

Harry shook his head wearily, wondering why she had bothered to look him up. She had only known him a few weeks. But her words had hit true - he _wasn't_ fine, and he had no idea what to do about it.

'Come in,' he said, opening the door wider, albeit a bit reluctantly. He wished she would leave soon - it wasn't as if anyone cared how he felt. Mrs Scalar sure hadn't when she _violated_ his mind, and _Fleur..._ she was just so proud that it made her ignorant of how others might _feel_.

Aurelie plopped down on his bed beside him, looking around curiously. It was like any other guest room, embellished with a few personal touches. She could see a picture on his bedside table which was probably of his parents, and there was his _Firebolt_ lying in the corner. A few books were lying on the floor as if they had been thrown haphazardly. She picked one up.

' _Mind Magiks'_ she read out loud, 'what's that about?'

Harry sighed, she didn't look like she was about to leave anytime soon. 'Mind magic,' he said flatly.

'Why?'

'I felt like reading.'

'Why this one?'

'I liked the cover,' Harry was starting to wish she would leave him alone. He _really_ didn't feel like talking to anyone.

'Yeah, I know, but why the sudden interest in mind magic?' Aurelie crossed one leg up on the bed and let the other dangle freely. She turned her head to look at him seriously. Her blue eyes gave no indication of giving up anytime soon.

Harry raised an eyebrow, _seriously?_

 _'_ I've been told that I'm crazy,' he said, shaking his head, 'Mrs Scalar said something's wrong with my mind, and I'm having problems with Occulumency, to add to that.' He threw up his hands in disgust, 'And I can't do anything about it,'

They sat in silence for about a minute before Aurelie spoke up again, 'Why don't you ask Dumbledore? He's pretty good at this sort of thing, no?'

'Yeah...' Harry said, 'I probably should,' There was a hint of reluctance to his voice. Aurelie was starting to get a bit irritated by his moodiness, this wasn't getting them anywhere. She shifted a bit closer, it was time to force matters.

'How are you holding up after being chosen?' she asked.

Harry pounced on that question like a thirsty man in a desert after seeing an oasis.

'How do you _think_?' He half snarled, but then suddenly deflated like a balloon, as if there was no more air to go on, 'I _can't_ , you know,' he wildly flailed his fingers, his voice desperate, 'I thought I could _trust_ people, but they just keep... letting me down. And now _everybody,'_ His voice trembled, ' _my_ _friends_ , labelled me as a _liar_ ,'

His heart hammered in his chest, wondering if he had said too much. Aurelie probably saw him as weak and pathetic now - _Hell!_ He felt weak and pathetic. The only thing keeping him from breaking down was his frenzied drive to prove that _he_ controlled his life, no matter how much the world tried to make him miserable.

'You know I believe you, right?' Aurelie asked, startling the boy sitting next to her, 'I don't think you cheated the Goblet,' She made her voice as heartfelt as possible.

Harry's eyebrows shot up for a moment.

'No...' he said disbelievingly.

Aurelie had her most angelic expression on, 'I just _know_ you didn't do it,' she said softly, 'you're not like that,'

'You don't need to lie to me,' he said tremulously, 'I know what everybody thinks,'

' _Nooo...'_ Aurelie insisted, 'I'm not lying, Harry. Look into my eyes,' she said, looking straight at him without a glimmer of dishonesty. She _actually_ knew he hadn't cheated. She was probably the only one in the school - besides him - who knew that. There _was_ no need to lie. She felt a twinge of regret for misleading him, but it soon disappeared when she thought of what lay in store for her if she succeeded.

She pulled Harry into a hug, and rejoiced internally when he hugged her back just as tightly. _Oh damn,_ she noticed _, my shirt is going to be ruined._

It _was_ ruined, but it was _totally_ worth it.

 **A/N: I'd just like to say that Aurelie is and will be an important character in this fic, and will take some time to develop properly. (What, you wanted to read a fic set in Beauxbatons without any OC's?) I'll also like to point out that Harry's behaviour is a direct consequence of being put in a bad situation, and he'll probably take some time to figure out what his best options are.**

 **Thanks for reading and leave a review so I know how it's going.**


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